


Supernova

by FairyLights101



Series: Out of the Sun [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Past Character Death, Threats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2018-10-02 13:40:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 40,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10219550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyLights101/pseuds/FairyLights101
Summary: He could already half-hear the stern talk Keiji would give him, stormy eyes narrowed, voice soft, but unquestionable. But every time before Keiji had ended the speech with a sigh and held his arms out, pulled Tooru into a warm hug and held him tight, peppering his face with warm, soft kisses. And they’d been okay. Always.Maybe you’ll bring my lights back.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Take your attention to this _wondrous_ [series art by lokiodinson on tumblr](http://lokiodinson.tumblr.com/post/157799794294/a-collection-of-doodles-ive-done-for) because it's been weeks and I'm still screaming???
> 
> EDIT: Changed the summary bc spoilers rip

Tooru blinked. Swallowed slowly, throat thick, as he stared blankly at Konoha. “He can’t be,” Tooru whispered. “I… I watched him die.  _ I saw Keiji die,  _ alright? He’s-” 

“Alive. I assure you, Akaashi Keiji is alive.” 

Tooru wanted to shake his head, to throw something, to punch a hole in the wall, but he was frozen in place, limbs locked, barely able to feel them. He bared his teeth and snarled instead. Konoha just smirked and patted his cheek, fingers cold, before he crossed his arms and settled back against the wall. “It’s a little unbelievable, but it’s true. I’ve seen him with my own two eyes. And he’s asked for you.” Tooru’s chest hitched, a crush of emotions plunging through him.  _ What?  _

Konoha reached up and plucked something off Tooru’s forehead, and he staggered forward as feeling rushed back into his limbs. His hands went loose and Konoha nudged them off his jumpsuit as he flashed Tooru the piece of paper in his fingers, charred at the edges. A lone character had been written on it - “freeze”. “Don’t make me do that again,” Konoha said breezily as he brushed past and pointed to a bag on the table Tooru had missed before. “There’s coffee and a bagel in there. Unless you think the starving waif look is cool now.” 

Tooru had to bite his tongue to keep the snappy comment or growl at bay. He didn’t sit, didn’t reach for the bag - he just watched Konoha as he sat himself on Tooru’s counter, legs swinging lightly in the air as a stack of papers, mostly in whites, appeared in his hands. He drew in a breath, fought the anger and shadows welling up, desperate to keep a grip as he clenched his hands tight, nails biting into his palms. “How?” 

Konoha’s eyes flicked up to him as he continued to shuffle through the slips of paper, quick and purposeful despite not looking at them. “How what? How does the sun work? How old is the universe? How long is infinity? How high is up? How-” 

“How is Keiji alive, you son of a bitch,” Tooru snapped, the shadows behind him sharpening, lethal. 

A slip of paper appeared between Konoha's fingers as he stared Tooru down, eyes cold, the red of the paper dangerous, sending chills down Tooru’s spine. “I will seal your powers. Do not test me,” Konoha said slowly. Tooru’s teeth sank into his tongue again, pain sharp against the hot, pulsing rage, but he narrowed his eyes, jerked his head, and reeled the shadows in, back into a seething mass that pooled at his feet. Konoha smiled, deadly and chilled, and the slip disappeared with a flick of his hand. “Good choice. I hear it’s  _ excruciating.  _ Now, Keiji…” 

Another piece of paper appeared in his left hand, this one gold and glittering unlike the others. He dropped it. The gold paper never reached the floor. Light blossomed, trembling as it opened, formed a familiar, flickering face. Keiji appeared, a wavering image, a single frame of him from the shoulder up, unmistakable with those beautiful gray eyes, unruly black hair, and that faint smile. Tooru’s hand pressed over his mouth, choked on a quiet sound as he stared. “It’s amazing how much it took to restart his heart,” Konoha said softly, “They practically had to hook him to a massive generator. But our medics managed. Healed the burns from that too.” 

The image snapped in on itself and disappeared, left Tooru staring into the empty space for a painfully long moment before his eyes flicked up. Konoha had pulled a lollipop out of somewhere, and he swirled it in his mouth as he stared at Tooru, waiting, patient,  _ predatory.  _ His mind whirled, left the world spinning as he frantically tried to sort through it all. Tooru reached out, clutched at the table, hand trembling as he held himself upright. “I… I need to see him.” 

Konoha crunched on the lollipop and smiled. “You can see him. But you have to trust me and come with me to do that.” 

One breath. Two. Tooru’s hand tightened on the edge of the table. He spun around and slapped his hands to his cheeks, the twin smacks ringing through the air as a hot sting filled his cheeks.  _ Wake up already. This is too good to be real, it has to be a dream. He’s not alive. He’s  _ not _ \- Keiji died. Keiji is dead. I had too much to drink. This is a fever dream. I must have had cheese before bed. This isn’t real.  _ “This isn’t real,” he mumbled to himself. 

“Oh, but it is,” Konoha said softly, “He’s alive. And he needs you.” 

His chest hitched, a shaky breath filling his lungs as Tooru turned to Konoha once more. Fresh grief ripped through him, sharp, frigid,  _ agonizing.  _ Tooru sagged into the chair Konoha had been seated in just a few minutes before, hands shaking as he stared blankly into his palms. The thoughts connected slowly, hesitant, disbelief and hope twisting together. “If he’s alive… and asking for me… then why are you  _ just now _ telling me? It’s been four Goddamn months - why hasn’t he come to  _ see me _ ?” Tooru threw himself off the chair and stabbed the air between he and Konoha, hands of shadows and claws outstretched behind him. 

A red slip of paper appeared in Konoha’s grip for a second time and Tooru stopped short, hand by his head, fingers curled into claws, darkness seething in his palm. “Do you want to be sealed?” 

“Do you want to  _ die _ ?” 

Konoha smirked and closed his hand around the paper, then opened it to reveal an empty palm. “Go ahead. Kill the messenger. Then you’ll  _ never _ see Keiji again.” 

Tooru glared at him for a long moment before he snapped his teeth and dropped his arm, lips curled in disgust. “Well?” he snapped, “Why? Why hasn’t someone come sooner? Why hasn’t he been brought back to me yet?” 

Konoha grimaced faintly and spun his lollipop with a soft sigh. “There were some… complications.” 

Tooru went stiff, back stiff and straight as a rod. He took a step in. The shadows that sucked at his legs and back perked up at the swell of hatred, eager to be released. “Complications?” A single word, ice off his tongue, as he took another step forward. 

Konoha jerked his head. “Complications. I’m not at liberty to discuss them, and if you refuse to come… you’ll never know. You’ll never see him.” 

Tooru bit his tongue as they glared at each other for a long, heavy minute before Tooru spat at the other hero. “Fine. Take me to him.” 

Konoha nodded with a faint, thin-lipped smile. “You might want to clean up first.” Tooru slapped a hand to his face, stubble rough under his fingers, and he grimaced. Konoha just grinned. Tooru’s eyes narrowed, but he whipped around and jumped to their bedroom. It smelled stale in there. The windows hadn’t been opened in a while. He hadn’t really bothered to clean recently either. But he darted through the shower, scrubbing his skin and greasy hair viciously, and then shaved his face, no thoughts in his mind but  _ Keiji.  _

Fresh clothes were hard to find, but he found them in the back of the closet - he’d left anything in there untouched because that’s where Keiji’s things were mixed with his, unlike the drawers. He hadn’t gone through and thrown out any of Keiji’s belongings, even when Hajime and Kentarou had urged him too. The thought brought too much pain with it, somehow made the reality of it all even more concrete despite the empty bed and silence and images ingrained in his mind. As if those weren’t reminders enough. 

Tooru slammed a drawer shut, sucked down a breath. His phone chimed. He waited a second before he swiped it off the bedside stand and looked at it. A text from Hajime, not a question, but a point-blank statement that he and Kentarou were coming over for dinner. Tooru stared at it for a long moment before he set his phone back down.  _ He doesn’t need to know. Not until I’ve seen him.  _

Within twenty minutes he was back downstairs, Konoha still where he’d left him, though the sucker was gone. Brown eyes raked over him, and then a soft hum filled the quiet. “Good. Follow me.” Konoha slid off the counter and slipped past Tooru, then tossed a glance back. “Use your powers on me and you’ll be on the ground screaming before you can touch me.” Tooru huffed, but he reeled his shadows in once more before he followed. 

A car idled out front, sleek and low and black, ominous despite the early dawn light. Konoha opened a door for him and Tooru slid in, Konoha right after him. The doors locked behind them. The windows were fully blacked out so that he couldn’t look outside, the only source of light coming from the overhead light, almost sterile with how white it was. He couldn’t see the driver either. Konoha settled beside him and produced another lollipop with a flourish of his hand, this time cherry, and he popped it into his mouth. At Tooru’s stare he did it again and held this one out to Tooru, but Tooru shook his head, stomach twisting and heaving. Konoha shrugged and closed his hand around it, then settled his newly emptied hand on his knee. 

Tooru turned his head to the black windows and closed his eyes.  _ Keiji is alive. He can’t be. It’s not possible. But if he is…  _ He almost didn’t want the possibilities to fill his mind, wanted to keep the hope away, just to be safe. He’d  _ seen _ Keiji. Had seen his body crumple, no life remaining inside. Had seen those blank eyes and that blood-stained face. Had felt how cold his skin had been. Hadn’t felt even the faintest static shock, the tiniest source of life. There had been no drain of light, no last exhale. Just a limp body to cradle for a few short moments. A laugh bubbled up, weak, almost hysterical.  _ I’m a fucking mess. But anyone would be, finding out you accidentally killed the love of your life.  _

He ran a hand down his fresh face and sighed softly.  _ Please. Please let it be true.  _ Because he had so much to apologize for. All the lies and secrets he’d shrouded himself in. For waiting. For not telling Keiji how much he loved him more often. For leading to his death - or, if Konoha spoke the truth, his temporary death. All the apologies he’d chanted to himself in the darkness of his room, in the chaos of his mind, would  _ finally _ get to come out, and Keiji would  _ know.  _ Just as he’d deserved to know from the beginning.  _ Who were we protecting? Each other, or ourselves? Either way it didn’t work.  _

He ran his tongue along his teeth and closed his eyes, blocked out the world.  _ Remembered.  _ Even now, he could remember how it had felt for Keiji to brush his fingers that first time, that faint shock of electricity pulsing through their hands. His smiles from that day had only flourished, growing wider. Right up until he’d shut down. Tooru had chalked it up to depression, or maybe to an incident that Keiji hadn’t wanted to talk about. He’d come back with bruises and scrapes, bleeding from his nose and a bruise swelling over his eye. But he’d been adamant about no hospitals, had found his own counselor, had faked his way through nearly a year before he’d pulled himself up. 

_ How much did Bokuto Koutarou mean to you? Who was he?  _

Searches had revealed a young man who would’ve been Tooru’s age, a college student in Tokyo, with black-streaked white hair and bright golden eyes. He’d been shot, supposedly gang violence.  _ What else have our corporations and agencies covered up that we don’t know about? How many of us have died and had our existences erased?  _

That was what had happened to Keiji. No one had mailed for a death certificate. No one came looking for him. There was no job searching for Keiji. And yet their bank account had kept filling every other week. It hadn’t taken much for Takahiro to find out that Keiji had hacked into a corporation known for cruel tests of their products on animals and siphoned off some of their money through an intensive series of accounts that finally ended in theirs, just enough to mimic a paycheck. 

He’d also set up a system so that their money headed to animal shelters across the globe under a pseudonym - B.K. That wasn’t the only place he’d done it to. Tooru hadn’t even realized Keiji had the skills to hack like that. But perhaps he hadn’t - Hijack’s skills had fallen into the territory of electronics. The bomb, taken by Aoba Johsai, had been picked apart, and what hadn’t been melted from the flood of electricity had been analyzed. A true work of genius according to Shigeru - or at least the work of someone with an already higher than average intellect paired with abilities that allowed him to almost  _ integrate _ himself with the electronics. Or that was what the ability aptitude test he’d taken in middle school had shown. 

Keiji’s on the other hand - Keiji’s was sealed. Even Takahiro hadn’t been able to touch it, too many firewalls and dead ends to sift through, which he’d managed until he’d been blocked by a wall he was  _ still _ trying to get around two months later. That night hadn’t been pretty. He’d known Keiji’s footprint from the Internet had been erased - his Instagram, Facebook, even his old MySpace he’d shown Tooru once. But to know that  _ everything _ was untouchable - Aoba Johsai had quarantined him for a while to ensure the safety of  _ everyone.  _

Tooru pressed his fingers into his face and sighed quietly. “Fukurodani, huh? I’ve heard some pretty shit things about them.” Mostly from Keiji though - that first date they’d spent together stood out. Even then, when he’d been a hero with Fukurodani, Keiji hadn’t been happy with the hero side of Fukurodani. And after Bokuto’s death, now a defining moment, he could understand  _ why _ every single time Fukurodani had come up Keiji would go hostile and tense, sometimes launching into a rant, sometimes falling deathly silent, so quiet that Tooru struggled to draw responses from him. 

Konoha snorted and tossed a glance over as he crunched on his sucker, then jabbed it in his direction. “I could say the same about Aoba Johsai.” 

Tooru’s lips curled in a sneer as they leered at one another. “Funny, I don’t recall talk of us being greedy little whoremongers.” 

“And  _ I _ don’t recall anyone ever saying that Aoba Johsai is one of the top hero organizations to exist.” Tooru sniffed and flipped his hand at Konoha, motes of light flickering in the air between them before they fizzled out. Konoha hummed and settled back. “That’s the first time I’ve seen you use light.” 

“What’s it to you?” he bit out. 

“It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?” 

Tooru didn’t deign him with a response, just turned his head and stared at the black window - at the reflection it gave him. Konoha had turned towards him, his face unreadable, half-eaten lollipop hovering by his lips. He turned after a moment. Tooru’s hands unclenched and he looked down at his palms, to the half-moons he’d put into his skin, deep and discolored. 

_ How long has it been?  _

That ghost of Keiji had been the only use of light he could remember in months. The last time he could remember beyond that was around the time of Keiji’s death - perhaps not since before it.  _ Maybe because that’s what you were using when he died.  _ And it hadn’t been long after that before his powers had gone out of control until they were a danger to even himself. He still bore fresh scratches and bruises from nights where they’d gotten too rough, too cold, releasing all the hate he’d spun through himself, dark and demanding to be felt. 

_ Keiji… you’ll be so disappointed.  _ He could already half-hear the stern talk Keiji would give him, stormy eyes narrowed, voice soft, but unquestionable. But every time before Keiji had ended the speech with a sigh and held his arms out, pulled Tooru into a warm hug and held him tight, peppering his face with warm, soft kisses. And they’d been okay. Always. 

_ Maybe you’ll bring my lights back.  _

Tooru’s hands balled back into fists, but he didn’t bury his nails into the flesh of his palms. He just pressed his temple to the tinted window and listened to the car as it purred around them. 

The ride was agonizingly long and silent, but eventually they pulled to a stop and Konoha unbuckled himself and slid out. Tooru did the same, too impatient to wait for someone to release him like he was some prisoner. They were in a parking garage, only a handful of cars inside, all of them replicas of the one they’d arrived in. A hand brushed his back and Tooru flinched away, lips curled. Konoha smiled, a little apologetic, and gestured. “Come on. This way.” 

They walked together, Tooru just a step behind, drinking everything in as Konoha led him through the parking garage and into the building. Smoke-colored tiles lined the floor, the walls a piercing white only sharpened by the lights overhead. The hallway they first entered was simple, no additions, but what lay beyond the door at the end was an entirely different story. The space beyond was  _ massive,  _ an atrium that stretched up six stories and opened to a domed glass ceiling. A tall spiral staircase around a white column lay in the middle, walkways extending from it to the levels to the levels lining the walls. A fountain and little streams worked their way along the floor, plants lining some of the space, ledges to sit on in others. People in white lab coats milled around, interspersed with others dressed in more casual grays, blacks, and whites. 

“Impressive, isn’t it?” 

“Pretentious, that’s what it is,” he said softly, but there was no scathing bite to his words. Only interest, just enough to distract him for a moment before he refocused. “Enough stalling.” 

Konoha chuckled, but he led Tooru down the stairs onto the main floor. Some people called out to Konoha and he greeted them warmly, a faint smile on his lips, as he led Tooru through the crowd to a door opposite of where they’d entered. Konoha flashed a keycard he produced from seemingly thin air over a pad on the wall and the light flashed green, the glass doors opening with a hiss. “Bulletproof, and those can withstand a good number of explosions. It’s good shit. Of course, doesn’t compare to the actual blast doors we have, but those are still nice.” Tooru grunted. Konoha flashed him a tiny smile. His heels clicked on the floor, deafening in the quiet. But Tooru hardly noticed, eyes set on drinking in everything he could see. 

The walls here were lined with glass and steel, opening to reveal a variety of laboratories. Some held animals inside - huge white rats with beady red eyes in cages, flies buzzing about in cylindrical tubes, chimps signing as scientists flashed them cards, electrodes strapped to their heads. “We’re trying to understand what caused the mutation to allow abilities to form,” Konoha explained. “We’ve narrowed it down to a chromosome, now we’re going through individual genes. So far, no animals have displayed these phenomenon, but we’re tweaking their genetics to see if they will. Of course, that gets a little interesting, but considering, I doubt we have to worry about world domination.” Tooru snorted, but he nodded and drank it all in anyways, eyes sharp. 

_ Memorizing.  _

Konoha led them through another door, a mimic of the first almost, except no animals, only test tubes, beakers, graphs, and dozens of other things. Those were deserted for the most part. “Most of these people are on break right now. Fukurodani insists on it to increase productivity.” 

“Right, can't have your workers keeling over into the corrosive and dangerous chemicals.” Konoha huffed quietly, then lapsed into silence as they marched down the hall. 

The next swipe of Konoha’s keycard led them to another door - presumably one of the blast ones. That required a keycard, an eye scan, a pricked finger and thumb print before they were allowed through it. The one that lay beyond was like the first door in the series, but instead of gray and white, only a sharp, sterile white lay beyond. White doors with touch pads on the walls beside them studded the path occasionally - nearly thirty steps apart in either direction. The halls were dead, so much so that he couldn’t even feel a whisper of air on his skin, though the prickle on the back of his neck made hairs stand on edge as his head and eyes snapped around. “What the fuck is this part of the place?” 

He glanced to Konoha, who regarded him with a cool stare and a smile - sad? “It’s a place you don’t want to end up in.” 

Tooru swallowed hard and clenched his fists, the shadows underfoot thickening, bubbling with every step. But nothing happened. No DNA-sequences guns popped out of hidden panels in the walls. No guards marched around the corner and beat him or riddled him with bullets. None of the gifted appeared. They just walked, occasionally turning down branches in the hallway, no way to identify where they were going except for the tiny plaques above the keypads by the doors. They passed a few people in white lab coats who nodded, but no words were exchanged. They just moved, deeper and deeper in until Tooru was certain he couldn’t find his way out. 

And then they stopped outside of a room,  _ 1443 _ inscribed in black above the keypad. Konoha pressed his keycard to it, then his thumb, unflinching as it pricked him for another blood sample, and then leaned forward so light could pass over his eye. And then he jerked his head, pulled Tooru forward. “Here.” He flicked his hand and a keycard appeared in it. “You too.” 

Tooru took it, glanced over it. The picture wasn’t terribly old, but it looked familiar - he wanted to mentally sort through how many front-facing shots he’d had taken in the last five years, but he didn’t have time. Instead he glanced over the information listened and then stared at Konoha. “Your system doesn’t have my DNA or retina.” 

Konoha shrugged. “Doesn’t matter for now. Keiji’s waiting.” 

Tooru’s eyes narrowed, but he pressed his keycard to the pad. The light beneath pulsed to a soft green. The door slid open and his breath hitched, heart abruptly thumping harder, uncertain.  _ Keiji. Keiji is in there.  _

Of course, it also could have been a trap, some elaborate bullshit to get him into the facility so they could run all sorts of texts and experiments on him. So they could pick him apart and find what made him tick, what made his powers a reality. So he could be brainwashed and turned into a mindless drone for them to wind up and point in the direction they chose. But the thought of Keiji was too tantalizing for even his lingering self-preservation instincts to win out. It had been since the very moment he’d ceased to be a part of Tooru’s life. And it left him  _ aching,  _ desperate to  _ know.  _

Konoha smiled faintly and stepped through the doorway. Tooru followed, practically on his heels, the shadows beneath him rippling with tension and energy. Inside it was darker, a computer system set up against a wall, monitors and beeping and a thousand other things, two people seated in front of it all. But his eyes instantly went beyond them, settled on the sterile white room that lay beyond a barrier of glass. Basic, simple, just a few furnishings. And at a table in the corner was a painfully familiar figure dressed in simple light blue pants and a shirt, head bowed, hair wilder than ever. 

Tooru clapped a hand over his mouth, bit back a whimper as a crush of emotions  _ ripped _ through him, as all the air he’d drawn in seemingly disappeared.  _ Keiji. No, that can’t be.  _ It had to be a hallucination, a wishful thought. It  _ all _ was. Everything from the moment he’d woken until now, all if it was just a dream he’d woven together, so distraught that he’d needed to fool himself.  _ But what if?  _ What if it was true? Not a dream, but  _ real.  _ Tooru managed to swallow as he took a step forward, eyes frantically drinking in the details, different, but oh so  _ familiar.  _ He was thinner, paler, still as ever, quiet in his isolation. 

_ Why? Why is he in there? Why is he  _ alone _?  _

Tooru whirled, heart thrumming as he grabbed Konoha, hands tight in his jumpsuit, trembling. “ _ Let me in,  _ you- you  _ have _ to let me in. Let me talk to him, let me-” 

“Oikawa, there’s something you need to know-” 

“ _ Let me in, Goddammit! _ ” 

Konoha’s eyes narrowed, but before he could answer, one of the technicians glanced back. “He’s fine, Konoha.” 

“Komi…” 

Tooru jerked on Konoha’s jumpsuit again, brought those eyes snapping back to him.  _ “Please.” I have to touch him. I have to talk to him. That’s the only way this can be true. I  _ have _ to.  _

Konoha sighed quietly and pulled Tooru’s hands off his jumpsuit. A quiet buzz made him spin around and he found another door waiting, the small light overhead it green. It slid open as he strode forward, legs so weak he thought they might give out, trembling violently, hands unsteady. Even the shadows underfoot had gone haywire, bubbling and rising, only to collapse back down a second later. 

He stepped into what looked like a containment room, another door on the other side. The lights overhead were red, then flicked yellow as the door behind him slid shut. Then they shifted to green as the one in front of him opened with a quiet hiss. Tooru couldn’t breathe, almost couldn’t move, but he took one step forward. Another. The door slipped shut behind him as he crept into the room as it spun around him.  _ I need to calm down. I’m going to hyperventilate.  _ But he couldn’t stop. Not with Keiji  _ so close.  _ He was still seated at the table, head bowed over it, staring at the white surface, unmoving except for fingers stained black that fiddled together in his lap. 

“Keiji?” 

The younger man twitched. His head turned away. Tooru’s chest went tight as he stilled just a few steps from the table, throat so thick he almost couldn’t speak. His hand rose, curled around the rings that had settled over his breastbone, warm, their weight familiar in his palm. Steadying as he clutched them tight and tried again, a small, hopeful smile tugging at his lips.  _ It’s him. It has to be.  _

“Kei… Keiji?” 

Gray eyes flicked up, landed on his face. A blink. His head cocked to the side, eyes owlishly wide, totally blank. “Who… are you?” he said softly, voice reaching through the quiet, slipping around Tooru -  _ constricting.  _

That brittle hope shattered in an instant.


	2. Chapter 2

Tooru stared at his hands, blank, things slowly creeping back in one at a time. The sound of breathing came first, scraping against his ears as the thump of blood and his heart filtered into place, muted. Then the warm air that blew on his neck from the vent overhead. The slight tug on his gut as his shadows puddled on the floor, sluggish, scarcely moving except for a few small bubbles. The weight of Konoha’s gaze came at some point, the scent of coffee on its heels. And, finally, came the  _ ache _ that sat heavy in his eyes, his throat, his chest, agonizing, and yet dull all at once. 

Bits and pieces of reality, sinking back in one sensation at a time until he took a breath and  _ truly _ felt it. Perhaps the first one that he'd felt since that vacant stare had settled on him, since those softly-spoken words had shattered any hope he'd so desperately clung to. Since he'd straightened up, a minuscule smile fixed to his face, and walked out. Since Konoha had led him to a bathroom, the trip a blur of shaking legs and panic edging in. He’d at least made it to the bathroom before he'd thrown up and sat on the floor, sobbing and gasping until a strange blank calm had settled over him, suffocating, and he’d been led to a small break room. 

His head slowly rose, eyes settling on Konoha, still perched on the counter, a lollipop between his fingers, unopened, its bright red color glaring at him through the clear plastic wrapper. “How long were you going to wait to tell me?” His voice was hoarse, weak, but he couldn’t give a damn. Could only fix his weary eyes on Konoha as the young man’s fingers fidgeted with his sweet treat. 

“I was ordered to not tell you until we arrived. And, truly, I didn’t mean for you to go in there without knowing. But… I knew you’d break your way in there if I tried to stop you and explain.” 

“Ah.” Tooru pressed his hand to his face, rubbed his jaw, looked to the puddle of shadows that had gathered in the center. “What… what happened? What do I need to know?” Part of him didn’t want to know, wanted to hide behind a veil of ignorance, unaware, though of how much he couldn’t be sure. Of Keiji’s new condition, of the fact that he  _ was _ alive, of Keiji altogether. But the thought made him sick.  _ I can’t forget Keiji. I can’t do that to him.  _ Because then there would be  _ no one  _ to remember him, remember all he’d done. 

Konoha sighed quietly and flicked his hand. A keycard appeared in it, older, tattered, and he tossed it forward. The shadows on the table rose, caught it, and carried it over to Tooru with subtle ripples, and he plucked it up. His chest seized, went tight. Keiji stared back at him, young, the same face he remembered from the commons area, from the coffee shop, from those early months before he’d lost Bokuto. His eyes were bright, hopeful, a tiny smile on his lips. His information was listed on the blank space to the left - name, weight, height, blood type, birthday, primary and secondary abilities. 

“We found him through Bokuto,” Konoha said softly, pulling Tooru’s attention back to him. “They were both at the Fukurodani Academy branch of this all. Bokuto’s powers were… interesting. A primary ability of transformation into anything he saw - we never did find out how he inherently understood how to replicate their biology, but we believe it was linked to that. However, it was his secondary power that revealed him when he used telekinesis to stop a car from hitting him and a companion when it ran off the road. Some of our operatives arrived that night to talk with them - that’s when Akaashi shocked them. Thankfully he missed the third, and they managed to talk the two of them into coming in for some simple aptitude tests and training. That’s how we met.” 

Konoha sighed and shook his head. He looked older, the years etched into his face. “We were on the ‘volleyball team’. Part of it was a ruse. The rest of it was real. But everyone on that team ended up here, at least for a while. If anyone had a past that they didn’t want to discuss, we didn’t discuss it. And Akaashi was one of them. Though, he lived with Bokuto and his family, so it was clear that something had happened with his parents. Past that, it was okay. Until Bokuto died.” 

Konoha spun his fingers and a gold slip slid between his fingers. He dropped it and another projection formed, this time of a young man with white hair and black streaks that had been slicked back - Bokuto Koutarou. His golden eyes were full of life, his lips stretched into a massive grin. Almost enough to distract one from the scar that stretched from ear to lip on one side, thick and straight. Something from a blade. The image rippled, shifted to show Bokuto and Keiji standing side by side, their masks around their throats, matching owl-esque ones. Tooru’s heart leapt. The mask there was the same as the one that sat on his dresser at home, just newer, cleaner, but still that black and gold. He kept silent though, watched as the image fizzled out and left them in silence for a long minute. 

“Akaashi… he was- he  _ is _ strong. They weren’t pleased to see him go, but they couldn’t do much. His abilities - the electricity manipulation and shields he can form made it hard to bring him back, to  _ explain _ that whatever he’d seen out there, whatever that crazy woman had said… that it was wrong.” Konoha sighed softly and tore the wrapper from his lollipop, but he didn’t put it in his mouth. He continued to spin it instead, focus somewhere between it and Tooru. “When we brought him back, we thought he wouldn’t make it. He’d been without oxygen for a while too, enough that cell death in the brain was a given. But we hoped we’d gotten him in time, that our medics could salvage enough. I guess you can tell that  _ that _ plan didn’t go so well.” 

“No shit,” Tooru said softly.

Konoha managed a weak smile, then gestured, no real intention behind it. “His brain is severely damaged. It’s mostly centered in his temporal lobe. Unfortunately, that’s where a lot of the memory processes occur. The limbic system - hippocampus, amygdala, all that shit you learn in high school. He struggles to recall people, even ones he knew for years, consistently. He has good days and bad days. On the best, he’s been able to recall things from five, six years ago, so far. Bad days… he doesn’t even respond.” 

Konoha’s shoulders hitched, one hand curling in, and Tooru could only stare, not quite comprehending until the moment had already passed and the watery glaze in Konoha’s eyes was gone.  _ I’m not the only one who lost Keiji. He did too.  _ Konoha cleared his throat, straightened his back. 

“His Broca’s area was damaged too, but the Wernicke’s area is fully intact.” At Tooru’s confused stare he smiled faintly. “I don’t know much either, but the doctor told me that Broca’s is for speech. Wernicke’s is comprehending language. Again, good and bad days. And that’s not even the half of it.” 

“There’s more?” Tooru said quietly, leaning forward, the shadows rippling with his interest, with the fright that stole through him, left his heart beating a little too hard, a little too quick. 

“Of course. Some of his motor functions - movements - are impaired, similar to his memory and emotions. Additionally, the part of the brain that controls our abilities, that allows us to be  _ freaks _ and bend nature - that was hit too. He can’t control his powers, not really. He’s shocked a lot of people. Fucked up one guy who has a pacemaker, but he lived. We’re lucky we have a way to combat the teleportation - don’t ask, I can’t fucking begin to understand, and forget explaining. Just… he’d been getting better. But he’s been refusing us, or blatantly ignoring us when we try to work with him… so we thought you could help.” 

Tooru’s eyes closed. His fingers came together on the table as he carefully flattened the shadows out, focused wholly on controlling them so they wouldn’t turn into spikes and shoot through Konoha. The other man must have sensed his tension, because it almost seemed like he stopped breathing until Tooru opened his eyes once more. “So… would I have been brought here had that not happened?” 

“Oikawa-” 

_ “Would I?”  _ he snarled, slamming his hands onto the tabletop as he shot upright, chair toppling back. He stabbed a finger at Konoha, fiery anger flooding through him, setting him alight as he glared. “Or would I have been left in the fucking dark, left to think  _ my fiancé _ was dead? Left with  _ no body, no answers, nothing?  _ And someone thought that was a  _ good idea?  _ You Fukurodani people are  _ idiots,  _ you know that?” 

Konoha met his stare with a level one of his own, the red slip back in his hand, body tense. “That wasn’t my call, Oikawa.” 

“Well fuck whoever’s call it was,” he snapped before he snatched his chair up and flung himself back into it. “This is all a bunch of  _ bullshit _ .” 

“Oikawa,” Konoha said, voice soft, steady, inescapable. “If you really believed that, would you even be here right now? Would you have walked out and never looked back? Would you have ever gotten into the car with me?” 

Tooru held his eyes for a moment that seemingly stretched into infinity before he sighed and bowed his head, fingers settling into his hair. “Fine… alright, I get it. We all know that now that I'm positive he's alive, I'm going to do everything I can do help. Keiji is my fatal flaw. He has been since he sat down at that table with me.” Tooru leaned back, let his head drop so he could stare at the ceiling. One hand rose, fingers loosely curled, palm to whatever lay above. The upper floors. The sky. Space.  _ God.  _ A wry smile curled his lips. 

_ God. What a joke.  _

He spun his pointer finger and a tiny ball of light appeared. Adding color to it was simple, child's play really, and he wove in shades of grays and blues until a slowly rotating ball of stormy light hovered a few centimeters above his hand. “I love his eyes the most,” Tooru whispered as he stated at the orb. “That was what  _ really _ caught my eye. He didn't show a lot on his face, not like I do. But his eyes… I could read him like a book if I saw his eyes.” He closed his hand and the sphere splintered apart, the shards dissipating into the air as he rocked forward and locked eyes with Konoha. “Take me back to him. I want… I want to be with him.” 

Konoha nodded, popped the lollipop into his mouth, and slid off the counter. The walk back to Room 1443 was infinitely different from the panicked, dizzying dash he'd made away from it. Different even from the first time they'd approached it. Because now he knew what awaited him,  _ now _ he was prepared - more or less anyways. As much as he could possibly be, given the circumstances. Komi, one of the men from before, was still there, and after a silent look at Konoha he typed a code into the panel. The doors slid open and Tooru stepped in, waited, and then moved into the room. 

The air felt different, heavier,  _ charged.  _ Keiji had moved, no longer at the table, but huddled by the bed, legs pulled into his chest, ankles crossed, one hand tangled in his hair while the other was extended out, fingers twitching erratically. A faint mumbling had replaced the quiet of the room, frantic, garbled. Not Japanese or English. Just… gibberish. 

Tooru moved slowly, and when he was a meter away Keiji's head snapped up. The focus in those stormy eyes was intense,  _ familiar,  _ and for a moment he could  _ almost  _ pretend that things were different, that everything was fine and the world hadn't fallen apart in twenty different ways. But Keiji didn't call out, didn't extend a hand. His fingers just tightened in his hair, oblivious to the way Tooru's heart clenched, even as his mind spun. On the short walk Konoha has stressed that Keiji was still fully capable of recognizing and comprehending language. He responded best to Japanese. The only impediment was his memory, and whether he'd be able to relay his understanding. 

Tooru's hand rose, curled around those rings tucked beneath his shirt, and he squeezed them tight before he smiled. “Do you mind if I sit here?” 

Keiji's eyes fluttered. Something flashed across his face. His tongue darted out and wet his lips as his head bobbed forward. “Course,” he mumbled thickly. 

The smile felt a little more genuine as Tooru sank down and crossed his legs. For the first time in months he couldn't feel the ever-present tug on his gut from his shadows - instead there was an empty feeling in its place. One that he wholeheartedly didn't mind.  _ Good riddance.  _ He held his hands out, showing empty palms to Keiji, whose eyes snapped across his hands before they darted away while he continued to rock. “Can I show you a trick, Keichan?” 

Another look, this time with brows knitted together, before Keiji's head jerked. “Trust,” he said. 

Tooru blinked, and then a slow smile spread. “You trust me?”

Another jerk, bigger this time. 

“Do you know me?” 

Hesitation for a painfully long time, and then -  _ “No,”  _ this time in English. 

Tooru hid the way his heart dropped behind a smile as he nodded. “That's okay. Look, I'll show you some pretty things.”  _ Things I always wanted to show you.  _ Tooru bit his tongue and raised his hands, warmth gathering, distorting the air above his palms. And then the light coalesced, came together to form shapes. A while owl appeared first, dawn-gray light adding depth to its heart-shaped face, to its delicate, spotted wings. He watched closely as Keiji's eyes widened, and his hand loosened slightly in his hair, color returning to the white knuckles.

“Pretty…” Keiji murmured. 

“Very,” Tooru said softly as his fingers twitched. 

The owl melted away, the light reshaping into an elephant that raised its trunk high, giving out a silent call before it too disappeared. The forms flickered in and out, existing long enough for Keiji to drink them in: a long-haired cat he colored with sunset-orange light; a hippopotamus with pink-tinted skin; a pigeon with white and gray and blue feathers; gold and white deer; sleek dolphins of ash. And with every creature that came to life, twisting through the air, moving as though they had minds of their own, Tooru watched Keiji. His face shifted from something verging on terror to wonder, eyes wide, lips parted as he tracked the light. His hand fell away from his hair. The subtle rocking went away altogether. It left him still, gazing on with amazement as Tooru smiled and crafted the world before him. Right until those eyes slid past the lion and cubs he'd created and  _ focused _ on him, sharp, those black eyebrows knitted up. The lights stilled as Keiji's lips trembled, words on the edge of his tongue, and- 

“Tooru.” 

The word snatched his breath away, left him reeling as he stared, uncomprehending it all for several seconds before he snapped back and  _ grinned.  _ “Yes Keiji, that's me-  _ Tooru.  _ I'm Tooru.” 

Keiji hummed quietly and his eyes slid away, back to the lights hovering above his hand, a rabbit with twitching ears. “Soft…” Keiji’s fingers reached out and brushed through the air. It sent ripples through the light and Keiji’s lips moved, forming words that never passed his lips - ones that Tooru studied until he made out one.  _ “Bunny.”  _ He nodded to himself. 

“That’s right. Bunny. This is a rabbit, Keiji. Do you want to see it run?” 

Gray eyes blinked at him, and then he nodded. “Run.” 

Tooru crooked his finger and the rabbit tripled in size until it was as large as a real one. He spun his fingers and it darted off his hand, landed on the floor, and it took off. It moved in ways a true rabbit could not, with great, flying leaps that carried it across the room or how it ran along the walls, the ceiling, through the very air, trailing stardust behind it as Tooru dimmed the lights in the room. Orbs of light blossomed in the sunset-like dark, rising and hovering just above the floor, pulsing and spinning as Tooru wove color into them, vibrant oranges, delicate pinks, warm reds. Keiji gasped and stared, mouth open as he watched the spectacle. Tooru managed a smile as he split the rabbit into two that raced in circles around Keiji, his head whipping back and forth, before he pulled them away and let them sprint around again. 

There was warmth in the air, calm and serene and  _ everything _ he’d ever wanted, ever dreamed of - almost.  _ How often did I imagine a moment like this? A moment with Keiji, showing him what I could do?  _ Far too often. He’d dreamt up what he could show Keiji, all the creatures he could bring to a faux-life while Keiji watched on. All the ways he could weave and spin the lights until he created an illusion that they were in space, the same way he’d done for himself so many times as a teenager. The illusions were fragile, but they always seemed real, right until he let them slip apart and melt away into nothingness.  _ But this… this I can keep up for hours.  _

At least until a soft sound made his attention waver as he turned. Keiji’s eyes were back on him, hand outstretched. “Wet…” he said softly. 

Tooru pressed one hand to his cheeks. Somehow, he wasn’t terribly surprised to find that tears had run down his cheeks, not with the fresh burn in his chest and throat. “It’s because I’m happy,” he whispered. 

Keiji blinked. “Mad?” He lurched back a second later, face screwed up. “No…” he mumbled to himself, “No, no, no… mad… bad? No…  _ no. No, no, no _ !” 

Keiji shot upright and Tooru rose too, light filling the room as his illusions broke apart. He stretched his hands out, faltering, unsure if he could touch. “Keichan, no, no, no one is mad  _ or _ bad - you’re-” 

_ “No!”  _

A hand slapped his arm and- ceiling. Ceiling and  _ pain.  _ Dark spots. Fuzziness. Tooru wheezed, one hand to his chest where  _ excruciating _ pain ripped through him, clawing up,  _ demanding _ to be felt. His other arm was twisted by his side, painfully cramped up, twisted up in an awkward way.  _ Shit.  _ That was the first conscious thought, and then -  _ Did he just shock me?  _

A quiet buzz made his head jerk to the side as the door opened and Konoha stepped in, a red slip between his fingers. His mouth moved, but the words that came felt foreign to Tooru’s ears, his body sluggish. But he threw himself upright, legs twitching, and gasped. “No… Ko… Konoha-” He broke off into loud hacks for a second, then gulped down a lungful of air. The world swam into focus, black spots fading, the world sharpening. He found one hand around Konoha’s boot, the other still filled with searing pain, crunched up against his side. “Don’t…” he managed. 

Konoha’s wide eyes were on him, but he slowly curled his hand around the red paper. Tooru squeezed his ankle and forced his head to turn, to find the strange sound that had started to fill the room. It sank in as he found the source, found  _ Keiji _ huddled in the corner, hands over his head, violently rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet as he trembled. No garbled words, only whimpers and sniffles, sounds that left Tooru reeling. He didn’t know why or how he managed to, but he staggered to his feet, legs trembling, chest burning fiercely, and took a slow step forward. Another. 

By the time he stood before Keiji his arm had loosened enough that it uncurled from his side. A scorch mark lay on his arm, a violent red that had already started to knit itself back together on the edges. He watched, mind somewhere between blankness and foggy awareness, as he watched the burn shrink and fade away until nothing remained but faintly pinker skin. His legs buckled and he found himself on the floor, gray eyes blinking at him, filled with terror and tears. 

“Keiji…” he whispered as he stretched his arm out. The younger man flinched back, and Tooru froze where he was. He let a smile curl his lips, turned his arm so Keiji could see the unblemished skin. “You didn’t hurt me, promise. You just surprised me, okay? It’s alright. I promise. You trust me, don’t you?” Keiji hesitated, and then his head jerked in a nod. 

Tooru’s smile broadened. “Do you trust me enough to touch you?” Another second, and then a second nod. Tooru beamed at him and slowly closed the distance. he could feel the charge in the air, tense, none of that earlier warmth lingering. But he pushed forward anyways. And then his fingers whispered across a soft, warm cheek. The faintest of static shocks prickled through his fingers, and he laughed. “See? It’s okay.” 

Keiji’s lips parted, but he only ran his tongue along his teeth as he stared at Tooru, watching. And Tooru could only slide his fingers along Keiji’s cheek, tracing the familiar path of his jaw up to brush his ear, then settle into his still-soft hair. “I love you,” he breathed. Keiji merely stared at him. Tooru’s smile was brittle when we leaned back. “Can I come back tomorrow?” 

“Yes.” 

“I’ll be back Keiji. I’ll always come back.” Keiji merely twisted away and curled back in on himself, the rocking subtler, no noises leaving him. 

Tooru rose. His legs gave out. Arms caught him from behind and Tooru sagged into Konoha’s chest, let the other man carry him out and into the observation room where he was pushed into a chair, a water bottle pressed into his hand. He stared dumbly at it until fingers snapped in front of his face and he twitched, refocused on what was in front of him. Konoha hovered in his face, Komi a step behind him, both studying him with worry, a phone in Komi’s hand. “No hospital,” Tooru grunted. 

Komi’s brow knit together. “But-” 

_ “No.  _ I’ll heal before it’s necessary.” 

“Even internal damage?” Komi snapped, stress and uncertainty coloring his voice. “We should take you to the med ward, get you in for an MRI and an X-ray, check on your internal organs-” 

“I’m  _ fine _ .” 

Konoha glanced back to his friend and shrugged. “I know Komi, but he’s already doing better than the others were. Shit, none of them could stand up after a shock that strong for a few  _ hours.  _ If anything was going to happen it would’ve happened by now.” Komi frowned, but he set the phone down. Konoha cracked the water bottle open and pressed it back into Tooru’s hands. “Drink. You need it. He got you pretty good there.” 

Tooru smiled wryly and nodded as he tipped the bottle back and drank. Some spilled out of his mouth, ran down his neck, but he was too weak, too  _ drained _ to care. He barely managed to focus on Konoha as he spoke. “That happens when he gets distressed. He’s aware that something is wrong, but he can’t express it in any other way at the moment, so he lashes out. That usually makes it worse. He doesn’t like hurting people.” 

_ “I don’t kill people!”  _

The words Keiji had shouted to him at Ginza, one arm thrown out, desperation in his voice. And Tooru hadn’t listened, hadn’t  _ known.  _ Tooru nodded slowly. 

Konoha studied him for a long moment. “Even if you hadn’t been shocked, you’d still be exhausted. Akaashi draws on the ambient energy in the air unconsciously to maintain a constant five-thousand amperes of energy in his body, far more than the average human. He can actively take from the environment though - that’s what made him so strong, especially in cities. There’s almost infinite sources of electricity there. But now that he struggles to control it… He was drawing in too much. So we had to insulate the room specially, make sure he couldn’t draw in too much and hurt himself or someone else. It still happens… but it’s better at least.” 

Tooru nodded as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and sighed. “Christ…” His hand was still shaking, muscles throughout his arm spasming, but when he flexed his fingers the pain that met that was dull, hardly noticeable. He looked up, met Konoha’s gaze. “Do you have any hope of him recovering to any point of stability?” 

Konoha looked away. 

That was all the answer Tooru needed. He sighed quietly and sat back, hands settling in his lap. “But you still want me to help.” 

“I- We do. What you did in there…  _ no one _ has calmed him down that quick after hurting someone else. Oikawa, he might not know who you are consistently, but he still  _ trusts _ you. And maybe you can get him to the place nobody else can.” 

Tooru nodded. Spread his hands out. A tiny ball of light bloomed overtop each finger, small, spinning in different directions and at random speeds. They hovered there when he moved his hands, and then they shifted into a ring, rotating around a center point none could see. “I’ll do it.” 

Konoha smiled, relieved. “Thank you.” 

Tooru remained silent.  _ I’m just being selfish.  _ Now that he’d seen Keiji, that he’d  _ touched _ Keiji, he knew there would be no ‘moving on’. He’d sink every minute of every day into Keiji if he could, if it would mean anything for him.  _ Maybe it will. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m selfish. I can’t lose him. Not now. Not after everything.  _ “When do I start?” 

Konoha smiled. “Technically? Now. But after today… it’s whenever you can make it. We can send a car to pick you up and drop you off. Provide money too, if that helps. Meals too if you’re here for long periods of time.” 

“Do what you want. Send me a car at nine in the morning. I’ll leave… whenever.” 

Konoha nodded. “That sounds good. You should probably be leaving soon today though.” 

Tooru blinked. “Why?”

“Because it’s nearly eight in the evening, Oikawa. You were in there with him for quite some time.” 

Tooru blinked. Nodded. “Okay.” 

“Do you want to see our doctors before-” 

“No, I’ll be fine. Just… take me home.” 

The walk back through the halls was silent, quick. He wasn’t entirely sure he could  _ feel  _ everything correctly, his nerves still fried, his brain sinking back into itself. But he couldn’t mistake the quick hug and quick  _ “Thank you”  _ whispered into his ear before Konoha nudged him into the black car once more. 

Tooru’s head lolled against the window. 

He might have dozed. 

He just found his eyes opening as the car rolled to a stop as someone knocked on a blacked-out glass divider in front of him. Tooru lethargically unbuckled himself and slid out, swayed on the sidewalk as the car slipped off into the cold, dark night. He took one step forward. Another. Found his front door unlocked. He stared blankly at the two pairs of shoes in the entryway, familiar, but not quite connecting until- 

_ “Tooru.”  _ His head snapped up as a heavy body slammed into him, crushed him against the door, and all the air in him rushed out as his arms reflexively wrapped around the familiar body. Hands grabbed his shoulders, shoved him back, and he blinked, found Hajime glaring at him, face a wreck of worry and relief and anger. “Tooru, where the fuck  _ were you?  _ We came here and found you gone, house unlocked,  _ your phone in your bedroom.  _ Fuck… I thought…” 

Tooru’s mouth opened, ready to ask “what”, when it clicked.  _ You thought I went to kill myself.  _ The thought hit him like a punch to the gut and he could only stare at Hajime, words not coming, not even when Kentarou darted around the corner and then sagged into the wall with relief. “Thank God… I’ll call the police, let them know he showed up.” 

Hajime just nodded as Kentarou ducked away again, and then a large hand cupped Tooru’s face, pulled his gaze down. “Are you okay? What the fuck happened? Why… why weren’t you here?  _ Are you okay?  _ You look… sick.” 

Tooru swallowed hard. Leaned forward and buried his face into Hajime’s neck, hands curled into his shirt. “It’s… been a long day, Hajime,” he croaked quietly. “Where do I even start?” 

“You can start with where the fuck you’ve been. Wait, shit- have you eaten anything? Drunk anything?” Tooru licked his lips. The water from earlier seemed like a thousand years away. He shook his head. Hajime sighed quietly, but when Tooru leaned back his face was soft, that paternal sort of look he’d developed while they were young. “Come on. Go wash up. Dinner’s still in the kitchen. I’ll heat it up.” 

Tooru nodded silently and trudged to the bathroom. It took longer than necessary, but by the time he returned the scent of warm food filled the house. He was more than a little startled to find an open bottle of whiskey and three tumblers on the table, but he didn’t protest when Hajime poured him a good amount and then slid a plate piled high with food in front of him. “Eat first, talk later.” 

He didn’t argue, just dug into the spaghetti Kentarou had probably made with relish. He could feel their stares on him, hawkish, one on either side, but he ignored them and shoveled bites of food in, ravenous for the first time in months. Somewhere between bites of the pasta and meatballs and the burn of whiskey, Tooru felt himself  _ really _ come back, settling fully into his body. He felt less frazzled, more  _ human,  _ and it was almost as much of a relief as the food was.  _ It really has been a long day.  _

All too soon he finished, stomach aching slightly, and he pushed the empty plate and tumbler back. He could see questions practically burning holes through Hajime and Kentarou’s lips, and he smiled wryly as he looked to them both. “It’s a lot. You… you’re not going to believe me.” 

“At this point, I think I’d be willing to believe that you somehow overthrew a world power’s government and installed your own in its place.” 

Tooru flashed Hajime a middle finger, then shrugged. “Think… more miraculous.”

“You’re not a dick anymore?” His gaze snapped to Kentarou, right as the blond hid a startlingly wide grin behind his hand. So wide that Tooru couldn’t even find words to retort.  _ Kentarou… he was just as worried.  _ He supposed it was easy to forget - their relationship was still interesting, but Kentarou wholeheartedly threw himself into whatever Hajime loved. And that extended to him. He left sharp retorts and snappy comments in the back of his throat, turned to face the center of the table. 

“Keiji’s alive,” he said simply. 

The silence that met that dragged on and on - so long that he finally caved and looked to Kentarou and Hajime. They both stared at him, faces carefully blanked, but he’d spent a lifetime reading Hajime, and he  _ knew.  _ “You don’t believe me.” 

“Tooru… you were there. He died. I saw them take him away. He’s… not coming back. He’s not alive. Whatever happened to make you think that-” 

“I saw him. I  _ touched _ him. He’s-” 

Something in his pocket twitched and Tooru froze, then leaned forward and pulled whatever it was out, held it where they could all see. A slip of golden paper with a sticky note attached -  _ “I figured you’d need this. Just drop it and thank me later”.  _ Tooru peeled the sticky note off and stared at the paper.  _ “Record”  _ had been written on it,  _ “Show”  _ right beneath it. He sucked down a breath, held it out, and dropped the slip. It never hit the table. 

A light burst out instead and Konoha’s form appeared from the shoulders up, multi-sided so that they could all see. Kentarou and Hajime recoiled, but leaned in a second later as Konoha began to speak.  _ “Oikawa, I was figuring you’d tell your friends, and thought this would help. I recorded it while you were… occupied. Now… let me explain.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ヾ(｡･ω･)ｼ I'll respond soon, been sick and got school coming up, rip me  
> The next update will probably take longer, so leave some encouragement and scream at me on tumblr maybe


	3. Chapter 3

They put braces onto Keiji's legs in the morning. Tooru watched as Keiji sat on his bed, hunched over the two women who had coaxed him into taking his pants off with soft words so they could attach the supports, slender, almost elegant things of white plastic and dark metal.

“His legs are probably the weakest,” Konoha said, drawing Tooru's eyes away. “That and his left arm. We've been giving him a stress ball to squeeze, though he's torched half a dozen already. We also walk him around in here - can't really have a treadmill since those run on electricity, and we don't have the space to build a room just so he can walk. It's frustrating… but I think he just forgets about it usually.”

Tooru nodded, licked his lips, eyes frozen in Keiji. He hadn't noticed the braces before - he'd been solely focused on Keiji's face, on the way he'd shied away or looked on in awe, on how fragile he'd suddenly become. But now that he knew what to look for, he could see the shape of them beneath his white pants as they settled him back on the bed, still, almost doll-like. One of the women ruffled his hair, a sad smile on her lips. “Does she know him?”

“Yeah. They both do. That one is Shirofuku Yukie, the other is Suzumeda Kaori. Yukie, she never developed powers, but her brother did, and she refused to leave his side, so she learned about us, eventually ended up here. Kaori did develop powers, but they're minor - she can control water to a degree, and float a meter off the ground.”

“They were part of your… team?”

“Yeah. Officially, managers. Unofficially, basically the ones who whipped us into shape and made sure we took care of ourselves trying to balance everything.” Konoha smiled faintly and Tooru watched him, how intently he observed the three in the room. How grief flashed across his face for a split second before he turned to Tooru. “Are you ready?”

Tooru merely smiled, faint and wry. Konoha matched that as the buzzer over the door went off and the two women stepped out. They nodded to him and made a beeline for Konoha while he slipped past, slid into the containment room, then into the room beyond. Keiji was still seated on the bed, fiddling with his hands, the gesture painfully familiar from years and years of Keiji's anxiety, his uncertainties, his fears. Ones that ran far deeper than Tooru had ever realized before. He clutched the folder in his arms a little tighter, then shifted and crouched in front of Keiji, smiling faintly.

Gray eyes fluttered, then Keiji's head tipped to the side. “Tooru.”

Tooru's smile widened a little and he nodded. “That's right. I'm Tooru. Oikawa Tooru. Remember?”

Keiji's eyes slid away as the movement in his hands faltered, slowed, came to a stop after a long moment. Tooru smiled faintly. “Do you want to come to the table with me?” Nice and slow, just like Konoha had told him to, that way Keiji could understand him better. Talking quickly would only confuse him, and when he grew confused, he became unstable.

Keiji's eyes drifted back over and he nodded after a moment and stood. His legs were a little unsteady, but he made it to the table on his own and sank down into the chair, watching with dull eyes as Tooru moved their chairs side by side and set the folder on the table. He opened it up, pulled out the stack of pictures that had been lying around the house. All the ones that had backups on phones and computers anyways. He took the first one and turned it to Keiji. “Look, do you remember this?”

Keiji's throat worked as he studied the picture. It was of Fukurodani Academy, tall, grand, and white, a place fit for intellectuals and other gifted to gather. The picture had been taken during autumn, the trees all around the school laden with orange bursts of leaves. Students had been captured milling out front. Keiji's head jerked. “School. My school.”

Tooru nodded, brushed his fingers along Keiji's wrist. He couldn't help but smile at the familiar little shock. Keiji hummed quietly, hand twitching, before he patted the photograph, pushed it aside - he recognized what they were doing. Tooru put another in front of him, this one of their house, the flowers outside blooming in vibrant, explosive shades, the trees throwing shadows across the pale yellow front and the white beams and railings and accents. Keiji sucked on his teeth, smacked the table. “Ho… Home.”

“That's right, Keichan. That's our home. Where you and I… lived.” His smile felt like glass, but he still put the neck photograph down, the image of a sakura tree greeting him.

Keiji's eyes narrowed, lips curling as he shook his head, fingers curled. “Tree.”

“What kind of tree?”

 _“Tree,”_ Keiji bit out, voice sharp as a tiny crackle filled the air for a moment.

Tooru hesitated, glanced back to the observation window before he turned back and smiled, careful to not touch Keiji as he tapped the picture. “Can you tell me the color?”

“Re… Rink. Link.” Keiji's brow furrowed, eyes already dark with frustration. His hands slowly rose and Tooru watched, unsure of what he was going to do. Keiji slapped his cheeks before Tooru could move and he jerked, tense, eyes glued to Keiji as his hands thumped against the table while he shook his head, mumbling to himself. “Sink… brink… drink… mink… No, no, no… P...ink?”

Keiji's eyes flicked up, fingers curling against the lip of the table. He looked desperate, unsure of himself - he knew he couldn't trust his mouth to say what he needed too, and maybe was aware that his mind couldn't be trusted either. Tooru somehow forced a bright smile and nodded. “That's great, Keichan. Let's move to something easier for now, okay?”

There were photographs of animals in the stack, and Keiji breezed through them easily, only stumbling over the one with a rooster because he kept saying “roster” instead. His words tended to come through association - cow, he reached by saying milk. With cat, he said purr. Others came instantly - bird, dog, otter. And then they moved on, this time to pictures that had several household objects and things in each. When they related to one another - pen, pencil, notebook, paper - he did well, able to recognize and group them all together. He even allowed Tooru to coax him into repeating the words, though his nose wrinkled at how thick and slow his voice was at points. But when the photographs showed other things - oranges, a box, a guitar, and a chair - it left him with narrowed eyes and bared teeth as he struggled his way through them. He knew what they were, that much was clear with how he slapped the table and how shocks leapt across the space between them, jolting Tooru, but he simply couldn't get his voice to cooperate.

Tooru felt the frustration, echoing in his chest and making his hands clench with worry every time Keiji's failures stretched out, leaving him mumbling and snarling at the photographs, at himself, incoherent at the best of times. And then it would pass, the right word, or something close to it anyways, leaving him, and they would move on. On and on, for what felt like hours, purely devoted to watching Keiji look over the photographs and grimace or smile ever so slightly. And then, when Tooru pulled out a photograph of a beach, Keiji didn't respond, and he found those eyes on the wall in front of them.

“Keiji?” He twitched, hands tightening. Tooru shifted closer, hesitated, pressed his fingers to Keiji's bicep. A soft shock tingled through his fingers as Keiji shied away for a second, then leaned in with a muted sigh. Tooru bit his lip, wrung his hands. “Do you know me?”

Keiji’s eyes slid over, blinked, stared blankly at him for a long moment. His eyes narrowed in concentration. “Oi… kawa.”

Tooru managed a smile as he nodded. “Yeah, that’s me. Oikawa Tooru. Can you tell me your name?”

“‘Kaashi… Keiji.”

“That’s right. Akaashi Keiji. Tell me again, okay?”

“Akaashi Keiji.”

“Again. Please.”

“Akaa...shi. Keiji.”

“Perfect. You’re doing so good, Keichan. So, so good.”

Keiji merely stared at him blankly before his head turned again, fingers fiddling once more as he drifted off into his own headspace. Tooru’s smile faded. _I don’t know if I can help you - and that terrifies me._

* * *

 

“Keichan.”

The young man glanced up, brow furrowed, streaks of gray, blue and black on his chin from where idle thumbs had carried smears of pencil lead, from distracted hands that had pressed the wrong end of the pen to his skin. “Yeah?” he said softly, fingers stilling from where they’d been tapping an incessant rhythm on the book before him - though he hadn’t turned the page in nearly fifteen minutes, hadn’t written anything in almost the same amount of time. Tooru smiled softly, covered Akaashi’s hand with his own, laughing a little at the faint static shock that prickled through their fingers. Akaashi didn’t even had the energy to smile. He just stared at Tooru, face heavy, exhausted. He’d been that way for a while. Ever since summer.

_What’s bothering you, Keichan?_

But Akaashi wouldn’t tell him - or perhaps he couldn’t. But he said he’d found a counselor, that he was getting help. But there were still times where he simply wasn’t _there,_ even though he was physically so close. Tooru bit his lip, stepped around the table, slipped his arms around Akaashi and pulled him in, cheek to stomach, limp against him. There was a quiet inhale. One hand settled into Akaashi’s hair, the other on his back. Another breath, this one felt more than heard. Trembling arms crept up, clasped Tooru by the back of his shirt as they pressed against one another, Akaashi clinging to him.

 _He feels so… frail._ Like he would shatter apart at any moment with the wrong touch, the wrong words. The thought left a sour taste in Tooru’s mouth, left his head spinning as he buried his fingers into those dark curls and tugged gently at them. _I love you so much. Already. And it scares the shit out of me that I can’t help you._ He’d tried - God, had he _tried._ But with every push, Akaashi pulled back. Only when the space was there, left for Akaashi alone to cross, did they get anywhere, and even then, it wasn’t far. Just enough to remind him that, no matter what, Akaashi was _trying_ \- desperately, frantically, endlessly.

Tooru’s hands clenched. _I could show him._ It would only take a simple thought, a tug on his powers for the lights to come to life around them, and only a little extra to erase the world as they knew it, to bring a wholly different reality as close to life as he could get. Lights to distract him from whatever demons had sunk their jagged teeth and claws into him, plaguing him and tearing him to shreds. _But I can’t. Not now._ Not after the Nekoma kid had been killed for revealing his powers on accident, had died a horrific death, beaten in his own home. _It’s still too dangerous. But… maybe one day._

Tooru hugged Akaashi tighter, curled over him as though he could shield Akaashi like that, hide him from all the troubles and darkness in the world, leaving only warmth and his light behind.

Akaashi’s grip tightened. “I love you,” he whispered into Tooru’s stomach.

The brunet smiled. “I love you dearly,” he whispered back.

* * *

 

Keiji’s legs trembled as he stood, and he swayed as he took a step forward, not even to the twentieth step of the day. The realization of just how weak Keiji was without his braces had been a blow to Tooru, one that had ripped all the air from his lungs and left him gaping, unsure of whether any of it was really possible, whether that slender shot at recovering what they could was truly just a dream. And yet he returned, day after day, and ended up right where he was, one hand on Keiji’s back as he leaned heavily against a cane, slowly making his way through the room.

They’d rearranged things, pushed what little that had jutted out into the room against the wall, just like always, and they were making laps. Trying to anyways. Tooru was almost certain Keiji would barely make one, let alone many more. His legs sometimes wouldn’t cooperate - Tooru had been kicked more than a few times because Keiji couldn’t get the movements quite right, and he’d been shocked on accident more than once following that, but overall, the days were mostly good. His strength had been growing. But, some days, he backslid.

It was frustrating for them all.

He knew Konoha was probably in the observation room biting the skin off the edge of his thumb. That the other researcher that was frequently there, Komi, was probably fixated on the electrical output gauge, on recording all the progress, or lack thereof, that Keiji made. The girls, Shirofuku and Suzumeda, could have been in there too. And, above all, that Keiji was irritated, grumbling to himself as he shuffled forward a step and stopped, toes twitching on the cool tile floor.

Tooru closed his eyes for a moment. Took a slow breath, just to make sure his voice came out steadier than he felt like it would. Opened his eyes again as his fingers curled slightly on Keiji’s back. “You’re doing great, Keiji,” he murmured in his ear. “Really, you are. I know it’s hard, but you’re making progress, promise. Can’t get completely better right away, remember?” _That’s kind of cruel, asking if he remembers. Ah, fuck._

Keiji’s fingers tightened on the cane. His head jerked in a nod. Tooru smiled, swept his fingers down Keiji’s spine, ignoring the way electricity prickled through his fingertips, left his arm feeling a little different than normal. But he didn’t pull away - he held in place, waited until Keiji managed another step before he spoke again. “I can talk if you want.” Keiji’s head bobbed.

Tooru smiled, glanced to the observation window, and then refocused on those large, pale feet that poked out from beneath his white pants, blue veins stark against his skin. “I remember when we went to Gion Matsuri, in Kyoto. It was your first one, my second. You looked so amazed by all the bright colors, all the dancing, the huge parade. You liked it more than the ones you’d seen in Tokyo. You looked at me and said _‘Oikawa, we need to come back next year’,_ and I said _‘Fine, but you have to call me Tooru.’_ It had been over a year, and you still barely called me that, I’ll have you know. But I hadn’t seen you blush that much in a while, and it was _cute._ I just had to kiss you then, y’know?” Keiji hummed quietly, eyes darting over to glance at Tooru, to drink in the warm smile that tugged at his lips.

The memories were of a good time, one he never wanted to forget. God knew they had enough photographs of it that it would be difficult for him to do so. He’d gone through them a few days before, pouring over the hundreds upon thousands that he’d taken over the course of the years. And he’d never been more thankful for it. Hajime and Keiji had teased him, joking that he spent more time taking pictures than anything else - but now he had something concrete to remind himself that those things had happened, that he’d spent five years in near constant bliss with a man he loved dearly. And that festival had been one of them.

They’d gone from booth to booth, sampling all the little treats. Keiji had coaxed him into eating some of the American treats - something called funnel cake, among other treats that had been breaded and deep fried until golden and crunchy. He’d fed Keiji a stick of dango, teased him when he’d leapt at the chance to eat a panda-shaped rice ball. They’d gone to the nearby shrine that night, paid their respects, kissed beneath the arch, the branches, the starry night sky that filled with fireworks, painting the dark with thousands of radiant hues. And it had been a night he’d relived as much as he could in the weeks following, painting his apartment with that scene, frozen in time, a snapshot taken out and reseen in the solitude of his apartment, the magic not quite there, but the heart-pounding, palm-sweating, nervous fluttering feeling had lingered.

Tooru smiled, pressed his fingers a little harder into Keiji’s back. “It was nice. I was so happy that we got to-”

Keiji pitched forward and Tooru’s arm shot out, the one on his back tightening on his shirt while the other curled around Keiji’s front.

A shock jolted through him, pain half a second behind it, crackling through his chest before it blistered through his arms and legs, filtered into fingers and toes, and Tooru grunted, clenched his eyes shut, lights and colors strobing in the dark as they both sank to the ground, onto his back with Keiji on his chest, Tooru’s body twitching, jerking as he blinked frantically, clearing the black spots from his eyes. He tugged Keiji closer, buried his hands into his hair as Keiji shuddered, whimpering quietly as his fingers latched onto Tooru's forearm and dug in, prickles filtering through his arm, chasing at the pain that tore through him, duller, fading. Tooru blinked up at the ceiling, smiled, forced his heavy tongue to move.

“‘S okay, Keichan… ‘s okay. ‘M here.”

Keiji twitched, but his head jerked in a nod, and his grip tightened, brutal on Tooru, but he smiled anyways as his head lolled back, letting the darkness swallow him. He faded in and out, blinking awake to the ceiling, to dark eyes, to a light in his eyes.

_“Yeah, he’s fine-”_

_“-needs to rest-”_

_“-direct shock, of course he went down-”_

And then he was gone.

* * *

 

“Keiji,” Tooru breathed, tugging him as close as he could, grinning as he peppered kisses all across Keiji’s cheeks and nose, Keiji giggling as he squirmed beneath him. The kisses might have been a part of it, but the hand that danced along his ribs was certainly another factor, and it left Keiji breathless, wheezing as he clutched at Tooru, pushing his arms away while he crunched up on himself.

“No… no more,” he gasped, face flushed bright red, hair even messier than usual.

Tooru merely grinned and swooped in, pecked his cheek lightly, and settled down overtop of him, draped halfway over Keiji, one arm wrapped tight around him, their fingers tangled together over their heads. Tooru scooted up, pressed their foreheads together, noses bumping and breath mixing as they tangled up close to one another.

They’d draped sheets overhead, suspended through some clever work with knots, safety pins, and a few thumbtacks, so they were in a little cocoon of cream, painted with warm, golden, sunset hues. There would be no stars, but he didn’t need them - they were in Keiji’s eyes, in his veins, in the static-filled touches that he trailed along Tooru’s skin, tracing the paths of veins and muscles from wrist to elbow to shoulder, then all the way back down. It left Tooru weak, not quite capable of thought, and snatched his breath away, left him grinning like a fool as he somehow found the space to scoot closer.

 _I could give him the stars._ Something so beautiful that Keiji wouldn’t be able to tear his eyes away. Something as phenomenal as the man who lay beside him. _One day. One day I will._

“I love you,” he whispered.

He felt Keiji’s lips twitch, saw those beautiful gray eyes crinkle a little as Keiji’s ear went red. But his hand stilled on Tooru’s bicep, squeezed tight. “I love you too,” Keiji breathed.

That was all the invitation Tooru needed to kiss him, soft and sweet, tongue slipping in as their hands clenched tighter, as their bodies moved together. And with every touch, he made those words _sing_ \- I love you’s, a thousand, trailed all across Keiji with pecks, open-mouth kisses, little nibbles, rougher bites. And Keiji gave them back, as good as he got, with a sweet smile tugging at his lips all the while.

* * *

 

Tooru flinched as cool metal pressed against his chest, and Sarukui smiled apologetically as he shifted the stethoscope around, listening carefully to his heart for a long while before he shifted, moved to Tooru’s back to listen to his lungs. Finally, he pulled back and dropped the stethoscope around his neck with a glance at Konoha, who had settled himself on the counter behind them, another lollipop in his hands. “Well, he checks out so far. No irregularities in his heart despite everything, and his lungs are good and healthy too. Really, you should’ve had him come see me _before_ you exposed him to potentially fatal shocks.”

Konoha shrugged. “Wasn’t my idea. He wanted to start immediately, the guys over us didn’t complain. And you didn’t see him get up right after the first shock.”

Tooru grimaced and rubbed his hand along his forearm. The scorch mark had healed quickly, and yet the skin there remained a little discolored, a few slight shades darker than the rest of his skin. No other burns had lingered - perhaps because none had been as bad as the first one. Even the one he’d taken the week before, straight to the chest, had been weaker. And the most recent one, another shock to his chest again from where Keiji had slapped his hand there out of frustration, hadn’t been strong either. Just enough to make him double over, wheezing, until Konoha came in and pulled him out.

They were more careful, wary of what could happen, not quite as willing to let him stay in there after a good shock, and Tooru couldn’t complain. They took a toll on him, left him shaking and dizzy, guzzling water as soon as someone pressed it into his hands. Sometimes they left his memory fuzzy. Sometimes they had to take him home early, the shock _just_ strong enough to jar him into a state where he wasn’t quite _there._

Tooru sighed, shook his head. “Can I put my shirt back on?”

“No, leave your scrawny, pale torso on display for _everyone_ ,” Konoha drawled.

It took a lot to not use his powers to force that shit-eating grin off Konoha’s face. Tooru sneered instead and snatched his shirt up, tugged it on as Sarukui scribbled a couple more things on his clipboard, then glanced at them both. “Oikawa, you’re fine, but you still need to be careful. Even with your regenerative abilities, a poorly-timed shock or one that’s strong enough could easily stop your heart, or leave you with any number of a laundry list of problems. Nerve damage, heart scarring, arrhythmias-”

“We get it, Doctor Doom,” Konoha said as he slid off the counter. He clasped Sarukui’s shoulder, squeezed him gently until the doctor looked up at him. “We know. We’re taking care of him the best we can. Akaashi too.”

Sarukui’s face tightened, but he nodded after a long moment. “I’ll see you around then.”

“Not if I see you first, Sarukui.” Konoha whirled around and headed way out. Tooru glanced back. Sarukui had slumped over, pressed his face into his hands, and suddenly he looked less like the twenty-four year old Konoha had said he was and more like a kid, pale and scared, and not sure of what to do.

He turned before Sarukui could notice, found Konoha waiting for him at the end of the hall. The other hero waited until they had turned the corner before he spoke, voice low. “Sarukui probably had it the hardest after Akaashi left. After Bokuto, he was the closest to Sarukui. I don’t know much about it, but I know that after Akaashi disappeared, Sarukui didn’t show up for a while. He won’t talk about it, but we know why.”

They’d taken him then, interrogated at the very least. Torture wasn’t a far-off possibility. Tooru glanced around, pressed a little closer. “Fukurodani is a little darker than we like to think… isn’t it?”

Konoha made a little noise in the back of his throat.

Tooru leaned back, fixed a bright smile to his lips. “So, what’re the plans for the rest of this week? More leg and occupational therapy stuff in the morning? He likes that best I think. That way he gets to relax with the easier things. You know, it’s only been a month, but his speech has already improved a little bit. He remembers _and_ can name sakura trees, and other things he struggled with before.”

“It’s a lot better than before,” Konoha said softly, “He trusts you. It’s fascinating.”

_It hurts._

He understood it, knew that it wasn’t Keiji’s fault that some days, when Tooru walked in, he would light up, eyes bright with recognition, and he would call out Tooru’s name - “Oikawa” was okay, but _“Tooru”_ left him breathless, certain for _just one second_ that it had all been a lie, that things were how they used to be - just like it wasn’t his fault that other days all that met Tooru was a cool stare, no traces of recognition despite the blatant trust Keiji put into him, allowing touches and close proximities that others weren’t allowed. He _understood_ that, but it was still difficult to fully ingrain into his head, to walk in and think _“This might not happen tomorrow”._ And yet he still returned, a glutton for punishment, desperate to be with Keiji.

“But yeah,” Konoha said as he waved a keycard, opened a door. “That’s what we’re going to do. There’s a certified speech therapist with him right now. We all figured getting you a medical exam would be good, even if you keep insisting that you’re fine - like a _dumbass._ Hopefully she’s managed to get him to cooperate. He can be a little shit - even before all this.”

Tooru grinned. “That sounds like Keiji.”

Konoha snorted, shook his head, nudged Tooru into an elevator.

They settled in the back, eyes on the distorted reflections in the shiny doors. Tooru bit his tongue for a second, shook his head. Keiji was an enigma, one that he would never truly reach the core of. And yet, with people like Konoha, Sarukui, Komi - he could _try._ “Keiji… has always had memory problems. Some days he would come back, and I swear he had no clue who I was. I always chalked it up to long days at work. It wasn’t, was it?”

Konoha glanced over to him, shook his head. “That was part of his powers, a problem they found quickly when they were testing our limits.” He waved his hand, two pieces of melon-flavored hard candy appearing between his fingers. He passed one over and Tooru took it with a hum, crinkling the wrapper as Konoha leaned against the elevator, tipped his head back. “His powers do that. They take so much out of him. The more electricity he uses, the worse the symptoms are. Lethargy, unsteadiness, memory loss - sometimes it would be hard to speak too. If he used too much, it would leave him in a daze. Akaashi bounced back quick though, usually came back to himself with eight hours of sleep or so.”

“Yeah. He played it off. I didn’t push it. I guess we both wanted to believe that we were telling each other the truth.”

Konoha’s head tipped to the side. Their eyes found each other, locking, still, and Konoha sighed, a weary twist to his mouth. “Yeah. That’s what we all want. I just don’t think any of us will ever get that.”

“Haji- … Babylon got that.”

Konoha smiled thinly, straightened up as the elevator slowed down. “Not many of us do. But I’m glad. Life’s shit, and we deserve some good while we’re here.”

“Like Bokuto.”

Konoha froze. The doors slid open. Konoha looked to him, face tight, almost completely closed off - but there were cracks in that armor, ones that Tooru leapt on, thoughts racing, clashing together. Tooru’s head bobbed in a little nod.

“Bokuto Koutarou.”

Konoha turned his head and brushed past Tooru, bumped him on his way out of the elevator, and Tooru almost had to jog to catch up to him, thoughts spinning through his head as he trailed after him.

“You liked him?”

“We all did.”

“You liked him _more_.”

Konoha halted, whipped around, and Tooru stumbled to a stop behind him as Konoha’s sharp gaze found him, forced Tooru to meet his eyes as he leaned close, stabbed Tooru’s chest with a harsh finger. “It doesn’t matter anymore. He’s been dead for years, and eventually you just have to move on. That means you too, dumbass. Akaashi is _never_ going to be the person you fell in love with again. What you see now, what you’re working with - that’s as good as he’s going to get. Stop fucking wasting your life and _move on._ You’re a _hero,_ so fucking act like one.”

Tooru grabbed Konoha’s wrist, squeezed it tight as he pushed the man’s arm away, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he pulled Konoha closer, stood a little taller, leveled a glare of his own. “I won’t. Keiji needs me.”

Konoha sneered. “Why would he need _you?_ He lied to you for as long as you knew him, and you did the same!”

“Because he still _trusts_ me.” Because, no matter what, that unbreakable trust always found its way into Keiji’s eyes when he looked to Tooru when he was upset, unsure, frustrated. There in how Keiji leaned into him when they made slow laps of his room. When Tooru introduced him to new exercises for his hands, coaxing him into continuing even though the day had been long and tough, full of electric shocks and fits of anger. Because some part of Keiji _remembered._

Konoha held his gaze for a moment longer before his shoulders slumped, head falling a little, breaking eye contact finally. “I get it,” Tooru breathed, the quiet of the hall deafening as it engulfed them. “I really do. I know it’s hard. I let it consume me. It still does. But I’m trying to move on by helping him. You can’t be angry forever, Konoha. And I know that’s coming from a hypocrite, but I’m _trying._ So why don’t you try to? Find the truth - find something to trust.”

Tooru dropped his hand, slipped past Konoha and left him standing there. It was far less impressive when he ended up having to wait on Konoha to open the next door, but neither of them made a comment. Konoha wouldn’t meet his eyes. They just walked to the observation room in silence, and then Tooru slipped inside, stories brimming, ready to be told.

* * *

 

“Babylon, I’ll be on you in two.”

 _“Good,”_ Hajime grunted over the comm piece. There was a crackle, another grunt, then a pained hiss, but Hajime didn’t say anymore.

Tooru’s stomach twisted and he pushed his jump a little further, stumbling onto a rooftop two streets down before he regained his footing and sprinted on, teleporting when the distance between buildings was too far. He could see the signs of the fight - sirens filled the air, red lights flashing from the emergency vehicles that roared through the streets underneath, and thick columns of smoke made clear markers of where he needed to be. Tooru grimaced, tapped his armband as he made another leap. “Are there any other heroes coming in?”

 _“No,”_ Shigeru said, typing quickly, low voices in the background. _“The Karasuno guys are all out of range, and Shiratorizawa has sent most of their people further north. Unless Fukurodani shows up, we’re the only ones here. Need backup? It’s just the one.”_

“We don’t underestimate _this one.”_

Tooru cut the link and leapt again, this time on the edge of the scene. He froze on the top of his building, eyes raking across the streets below. It was a bank, fairly large, pristine - one with a seedy reputation. A typical strike for Phantom. One car was on fire. Police had blocked the street and stood, armed, but they couldn’t fire, not with the battle going on.

Bolts of electricity cut through the air, crackling with white-hot heat as Hajime dodged out of the way, his armor scuffed and scratched, his plants bursting through the concrete. Hajime flung his hand out, vines shooting up from the cracks of earth towards Phantom. The man cracked his whip, the metal and electrical currents slicing through the plants and leaving the scent of char. Tooru grinned. _Time to play._

He teleported onto the ground, behind Phantom, and raised his hand, but Phantom was already turning, his free hand flashing out, away from his hip, red spheres flying through the air.

Tooru threw himself to the side and rolled away as the explosive-grade cherry bombs detonated in the spot where he’d stood, leaving a scorched hole in the asphalt. He rose, hand curled around a sword of darkness, and he rose, scooted along the edge of the area until he reached Hajime, a meter away.

“Going great I see.”

“Fuck off,” Hajime grumbled. He sounded winded, pained.

Tooru glanced down, eyes widening instantly. “Babylon, you’re-”

“I know, so shut the fuck up. It’s minor. Cauterized almost as soon as I got hit. Focus on _him,_ you numbskull.”

Tooru glanced forward, watched as Phantom slid a few more cherry bombs between his fingers. “I don’t want to hurt anyone else,” he called, “Let me leave.”

Tooru’s eyes narrowed as he smirked. “No chance in hell.”

* * *

 

“That’s it Keiji, that’s perfect. Keep it up, keep going for me.”

Keiji responded with a bland stare, eyes narrowed slightly, but he obediently continued to squeeze the stress ball, hard enough that his hand trembled a little. They had narrowed the focus down to his left arm - his other had regained full functions within a month of their initial work with him. According to Konoha, his legs, arm, and speech had come a long way since. And, in what was verging on two months of working with Keiji, he could see it. Keiji could stand a little longer, move a little quicker every day, his feet slowly stopping their drag against the floor. His words were a little clearer, and things he hadn’t been able to label when they’d first begun now came quickly to him on his best days. Things were slowly returning.

But the vacant looks, the memory lapses, the quiet - none of that changed. Keiji simply disappeared sometimes, and Tooru never knew when it would happen. And the thought made his stomach twist every time, but he pushed it aside, swallowed hard and focused on the individual movement of Keiji’s fingers.

They stilled. He glanced up, found Keiji staring at him, eyes spread wide, lips parted as he ran his tongue along his teeth.

“Tooru.”

“Yes?”

Keiji’s eyes narrowed as he raised his free hand, waved it in front of the air in front of them, fingers wiggling as he searched for his words. “St… story. Tell me… a story.”

Tooru pulled back a little, blinked, as his hands went tight on his knees. _He wants a story?_ He’d developed a habit of telling them whenever Keiji worked - talking to him seemed to help, and Tooru didn’t mind retelling their lives. Even if some of it left him in tears. But Keiji had never asked before, had never really expressed much interest except for some head bobbing and soft sounds. _But now…_ Tooru grinned, heart thrumming as he straightened up.

“Do you want anything in particular?”

Keiji shook his head.

“Alright, well… when I was younger-”

A shock, sharper than the dull static-like ones, made Tooru twitched as Keiji pulled his hand back, shaking his head. “No… words _and…_ movie. No… pictures?”

“The illusions? My power?”

Keiji’s eyes brightened and he nodded quickly, a loose smile forming as he leaned closer. Tooru’s smile went soft as he shifted, spread his hands out in the air. “I’ll tell you a good one then.”

The air around them rippled, a faint tug on Tooru's gut as he curled his fingers, then flicked them out. The room filled with a scene from his childhood, trees replacing the walls, branches arching high overhead and covering them in a thick canopy that sunlight slipped through. There was a path that wound through the room, beaten down by small feet over the course of years, all to reach the pond, which took up the far corner of the room. On the other corner, there were two boys, Hajime on the right, himself on the left. Hajime had been taller when they were younger, perpetually covered with brightly-colored Band-Aids and carrying his bug net, backpack filled with jars to put them in. The young boys shoved at each other as they slowly walked along the path, grinning and laughing and kicking at the dirt.

“My friend Hajime and I always went out into the woods behind his house to explore and do all sorts of cool things. He liked to catch bugs, and he teased them with me until I got over them.” Hajime held out a wriggling worm, long and pink with bits of dirt clinging to it. He dropped it into the young Tooru’s hands, and though his nose wrinkled, he didn’t scream or drop it. “That’s a worm. He liked to give them names, usually of historical figures. He was kind of a nerd.”

Tooru grinned, shook his head, and glanced at Keiji. The young man’s eyes were wide, fixed on the two figures, still methodically squeezing the stress ball. “That day, it was hot. It had rained the night before, so the ground was sticky, and we wanted to go play in the pond. It was deep enough that it went up to our shoulders.” Tooru guided the boys forward with a flick of his fingers, pulling the water closer until it they met in the middle of the room. They threw their shirts on the bank, leapt in, and for a moment Tooru could almost taste the water, a little like mud, clean and cool despite the warmth of the day.

“I liked to float on my back, so of course sometimes Hajime would come up and dump bugs on my stomach.”

The image rippled, turned to a young Tooru floating in the water, eyes closed, content, as Hajime rummaged through the earth at the bank before he rose, a triumphant grin brightening his eyes. He moved over, just as quiet as he’d been that day, his quiet splashes buried beneath the hum of cicadas, the babble of the stream, the birdsong that filled the forest. He’d dropped beetles onto Tooru’s stomach and he’d screamed, loud enough that birds had shot into the air, and Hajime had cackled and grinned, even when Tooru had dunked him under the water once, twice, before he relented. Hajime had paid him back by buying a popsicle from the ice cream truck when they’d trooped home later in the afternoon, sunburned but happy.

Tooru wove the image through, making up the details he couldn’t remember, guiding the little illusions through building rough structures from mud and pebbles, climbing trees, splashing each other with water, and more before he let the light crumble apart, bringing back in the harsh white of the true room. The change was instantaneous - Keiji’s shoulders sagged, the light in his eyes fading as he bit his lip, ran his hands together. Tooru scooted closer, reached out. No shock came when he took Keiji’s hand this time, and he squeezed that slender hand tight. “Do you want to see more?”

Keiji glanced over. He nodded shyly. Tooru grinned and raised his hands.

This time, a place familiar to them both flickered to life around them - the library from university, a little corner of it with a table, some chairs, and rows of books on one side, a window on the other, making it a prime spot to study for all of five minutes before caving in for much-needed naps. Golden sunlight poured through the windows across from them, trees in full bloom, static figures outside, blurred and indistinct. There were books on a table woven from light, ones for computer science and English and Tooru's advanced Calculus class, pages scattered all over.

“This is from exam times, my senior year. We'd just met a few months before, but you liked me enough to let me study with you.”

The pages of the books fluttered, no actual text or pictures on them. They fascinated Keiji anyways, and he trailed his fingers through them, the light rippling around his fingers as he smiled faintly. “You were trying to write an essay - it was a class on argument writing, and you were so frustrated because you hated the teacher. You'd already been there for a few hours before I came in, put my hand on your back.” Dust-like particles of light swirled together, joined into two solid shapes that sat at a table just a meter away. He and Keiji, but younger, though somehow just as exhausted. The Tooru-illusion hovered over the Keiji-illusion’s shoulder, one hand on his back, smiling as he spoke.

“I don't remember what I said - I probably asked if you'd eaten anything. Whatever I said, you shook your head, and I sighed, but I sat down and started to study too. But eventually you got sleepy.” The illusion's eyes fluttered as he slumped on the table, posture slowly relaxing, eyes taking longer and longer to open until, at last, they didn't open at all, and the illusion's back rose and fell in a mimicry of breathing. His own illusion turned to look at Keiji's, eyes soft, smiling as he reached out, settled his fingers into Keiji's hair. “You crashed hard. You'd been so busy with exams and work when they called late at night - I guess that was hero duty. You needed the sleep. And you looked beautiful there, content, and at ease for the first time in a week or two. It was really nice to see.”

And, what the lights would never show, was the best part - how he'd woken Keiji with soft, sweet kisses peppered all across his cheeks and soft calls of _“Keichan, it's time to wake up.”_ Keiji had smiled at him for a moment before he'd reburied his face into his arms, and Tooru almost hadn't had the heart to wake him back up. Tooru’s hands tightened and he let them fall, swallowing hard as he let the world fall apart once more, sinking back into the white.

Keiji whirled around, dropped the ball and snatched at Tooru’s wrists, clinging to him with wide eyes and parted lips that shaped syllables, his tongue working, fingers digging in. “More… show… more. I want… to see.”

Tooru blinked. “You want me to tell more stories? With more of the illusions?”

Keiji nodded frantically, clutching him tighter, leaning closer.

Tooru smiled. “Okay. Well…”

* * *

 

Tooru hugged the pillow closer, curled up a little tighter as he stared at the TV, not really focused on the movie, even though it was _Alien vs. Predator,_ and he _loved_ it. Nerves clawed at his stomach, twisting with guilt and hurt. The kind that had left him stubborn, unwilling to text Keiji all day over something _stupid._ And that had been hours and hours before, early in the morning. And now, at quarter til two, Tooru was _scared_. Scared that Keiji might finally be done with him and his idiotic tendencies, with the “IT work” that kept him out late, that he might have realized that Tooru had powers and hated that he’d lied. _I just want him back._

He’d tried calling three times already, but it had gone straight to voicemail, and he’d had to sit down on the floor of the shower, blistering hot and then ice water thundering on his back as he worked his way through a panic attack. _I just want him back._ Tooru scrubbed his face, shook his head, sucked a deep breath down. “He’ll be back,” he whispered to himself, “Keiji always comes back.” He buried his face into the soft black fabric. Took a deep breath, the scent of lavender clinging to the pillow.

A soft sound made him jolt up - keys scraping the door. The knob turned as he rose onto legs still weak from before, his heart pounding in his ears. It opened and Keiji hesitated in the doorway before he stepped in, swaying, his face drawn and sickeningly pale. Tooru was there in an instant, clutching him tight as he helped Keiji in, grabbed his keys, shut and locked the door. His partner leaned heavily into him, quivering faintly, hands twitching slightly against his sides. Tooru pulled him close, pressed his hands to Keiji’s back, buried his nose into his neck. No scent of alcohol, but his skin was _hot,_ and he could feel Keiji’s heart, rapid against his chest.

“Keichan?” he whispered. Keiji shook his head, fingers finding purchase on Tooru’s arms for a second before they spasmed, fell away, and he went limp, sagging into Tooru. He barely managed to catch Keiji before he collapsed to the ground, eyes wide, thoughts not quite connecting as he pulled Keiji closer, held him tighter. “Kei… Keiji?” No response. No movement. Only the ragged puffs of breath against his shoulder.

Tooru swallowed hard, slowly moved his hands, and hefted Keiji up into his arms. It wasn’t easy, not with him being total dead weight, but Tooru managed - hero training helped in more than a public crisis, thank God. But he couldn’t stop the tremors in his legs as he carried Keiji to their bedroom and eased him onto the bed, out of his jacket and shoes, and then darted to the bathroom for the thermometer and medicine. Keiji’s mouth was slack, so it wasn’t hard to slip the thermometer under his tongue and wait until it beeped at him, shrill, piercing in the quiet. Forty degrees.

Tooru cursed quietly and spun around, darted back out of the room and into the kitchen. He dumped ice into a plastic baggie with trembling hands, wet a washcloth with cool water and wrung it out, grabbed a chilled bottle of water, and dashed back in. He eased Keiji up, slipped two pills into his mouth and made him drink before he pressed the ice to one side of Keiji’s neck, draped the washcloth over his forehead, then sank back and buried his face into his hands.

“Keiji…” _Did you walk back like this?_ He hadn’t looked sick that morning, hadn’t even had a sniffle. He’d been perfectly fine - just angry, but the quiet angry, the kind that Tooru _hated_ because that meant Keiji was _hurt._ Tooru sniffed, slid his hand into Keiji’s and pulled it close so he could brush his lips across his knuckles, streaked with gray. His throat worked, thick and burning, painful in how he couldn’t force the words out for a long time.

“I’m sorry,” Tooru croaked. “I… I’m really _sorry_.”

But Keiji slept on.

* * *

 

“Careful this morning,” Konoha mumbled around sips of coffee, “He was a little testy with Yukie and Kaori this morning. I don’t know why, they just said he was fighting against them a little.”

Tooru perked up, one eyebrow raised as he stirred creamer into his cup. “That’s… weird.”

Konoha snored. “Yeah. He actually put Kaori flat on her back. Thankfully, the braces aren’t really needed, so they just left him. The bosses were talking about shifting them off, putting them with another guy who needs help since Akaashi has been doing better.”

“Makes sense, I guess.”

Konoha shrugged, turned to him, blinking blearily as he traced the rim of his mug. “Yeah. You’ve done more in the last three months than we managed. The amount of trust he still has in you… it’s impressive.”

Tooru couldn’t even find the energy to fake a smile. He merely nodded, sipped at his coffee, stared into the pale beige, steam curling up around his face. “He does… But I guess I can’t help but wish I still had him back. _Really_ back, y’know?”

Konoha’s shoulders shook with a tiny huff of wry laughter as he nodded. “Yeah. I know. When they resuscitated him, I thought we’d be lucky. They’d had a healer on him the whole way to slow the decay, and it really helped - gave us an extra thirty minutes. Maybe if we’d taken less time-”

“If I had stopped Hijack-”

“Stop,” Konoha sighed, shaking his head. “Just… there was nothing you could do. We all know it. Once Akaashi gets an idea in his head, he gets stubborn as hell.”

Tooru grinned. “You’re not wrong.” Keiji’s stubbornness had led to fights, just like his own had - and yet it had also led to some of their greatest moments, like the trip to the beaches in Hokkaido where they’d woken at dawn and walked on the beach, kicking sand at one another and diving into the waves as the sun broke the horizon, a much-needed break that had come shortly after his rebound from those months of depression.

Tooru laughed quietly, shook his head. “Let’s go on. I’m sure he’s wondering where we are.”

Konoha hummed quietly and they headed off, the path so familiar by now that Tooru didn’t need Konoha to guide him. Hajime and Kentarou had commented on it, the frequency and amount of time he spent at Fukurodani, though thankfully they didn’t tell him to back off. Hajime had just looked at him for a long while before he’d shaken his head with a long, drawn-out sigh and _“I always knew he’d be the last one.”_

Tooru tried to not put too much thought into that, had for the last few days. He just focused on the next step, the next move. On the scene before him when they stepped into the observation room. Keiji was seated in the middle of the room, back to the glass and limbs pulled in tight, dressed in pale blues. Komi glanced back at them, smile thin. “He’s been like this since the girls left. He’s upset, though we’re not sure about what.”

Tooru’s coffee was down in an instant, the door opening as he strode towards it. He was in the room in just a few seconds, moving slow as he fixed a familiar smile to his face, shifted closer. “Hey Keichan,” he sang, “Guess who?”

Keiji’s head snapped towards him, eyes wide, and he scooted back a little bit. Tooru stilled, the smile crumbling apart as his head tipped to the side, fresh terror spiking through his stomach. _Don’t tell me he’s forgotten me completely._ Sure, there were days where Keiji didn’t know his name, but he always _knew_ Tooru - that he was safe, that he could be trusted, that he could handle anything. Tooru sank down into a crouch, hands extended towards Keiji, palms empty, fingers loose.

“Keiji, do you know me?”

Keiji’s eyes flicked to the glass wall behind him, hands clenching. Tooru twisted, but a hand caught him before he could turn fully and he blinked, found Keiji crowding in his space, noses almost touching as Keiji’s expression softened, returned to the familiar neutral it had been for the last few months. “Tooru. Oikawa.”

Tooru smiled. “Yeah, that’s right. Perfect. Hey… since you’re doing so good, do you want to hear some stories?” Keiji drew back, grunted, hunched in on himself once more. Tooru glanced back to the window, then to Keiji, but he nodded, spread his hands. “Well… let me tell you about this new book I read.”

One of Keiji’s really, a book about dragons and dragon riders going to war over all the usual things. A good one with plenty of action that he could sum up decently. He made a translucent field appear before them, a handful of dragons of all shapes, sizes, and colors dressed in blacks and golds on one side, the ones opposite draped in reds and silvers. They stirred the air with their wings, remaining in place as Tooru spun his fingers, crafted the scene, adding riders with guns on their backs, soldiers and cavalry on the ground wearing their colors, still and silent.

“In this one, there were two ruling countries that used to be on good terms until, one day, the Black King betrayed the Red Queen by attacking her with his armies to try and take over her lands. His dragons were powerful, but she had strong ones of her own, and so soon after the war began they met in battle at an unnamed field - this one. The Red Queen’s army was smaller, less prepared, but they planned to fight to the death, ready to defend their land. So, at dawn, the Black King’s army attacked.”

The black dragons on the left shot forward and, with mouths split open in great, silent roars, and the red ones rushed in to meet them. Tooru grinned, spun his fingers, and the two sides colliding with a glint of metal, a burst of golden fire-

A soft sound made his head jerk up. Keiji scrambled back, eyes blown impossibly wide, feet scraping the floor for purchase as he backed away, eyes fixed to the illusion - to the _fire._

Tooru gasped and clenched his hands, shattering the illusion in a second as Keiji stilled, back pressed to the wall, trembling as crackling bolts of electricity jumped off him, searing marks into the floor and wall around him. Tooru scooted in as close as he dared, hands spread wide once more, heart in his throat as he fought for words. “Keichan, Keiji, it’s okay, it’s not real, I promise. There’s no need to be afraid, promise. It’s just an illusion. You remember, right? Just-”

 _“Leave!”_ Keiji snarled as he flung his hands up, a shimmering barrier rushing up between them, doming over his head as Keiji hunched in on himself, face buried into his knees, hands tugging at his hair. Tremors worked through his body, electric bolts still snapping off him, hitting the interior of his shield, sticking like tethers.

Tooru gaped, lunged forward, hands tearing at the smooth surface of Keiji’s bubble, but there was no purchase, no cracks, no seams, no way to get in. No way to reach him as he rocked in place, shoulders hitching with muffled sobs. Tooru stilled. Slumped down, fingers trailing down until they barely touched the surface of the half-moon of shield. Thin, wavering beams of electricity were drawn to his fingers, rippling through the air for a moment before they snapped, and instead it sparked off him with every twitch, every powerful jerk.

“Kei… Keiji?”

Red-rimmed eyes peeked up at him. His head rose a little, just enough to see lips form words he couldn’t hear. _“Go.”_

Tooru staggered to his feet, focused on simply _breathing_ as he drifted back to the door, eyes glued to Keiji has he curled in on himself once more. He barely heard the buzzer. Barely felt the hands on him, Konoha’s, as they guided him into a chair. Only came to when someone snapped their fingers in front of his face and he found Komi and Konoha leaning in close, eyes wide.

“Oikawa?” Konoha said softly.

Tooru opened his mouth, closed it, shook his head and slumped forward, hands tangled in his hair. His throat was too thick for words, a burn firmly lodged in it, behind his eyes, and all he could do was close them and start to cry, quiet and slow. Only shuddering breaths broke the silence that had sunk into them. No one spoke. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t screaming in his head. _Why? Why did he react like that?_ He couldn’t remember Keiji ever being startled by the illusions, no matter what. Couldn’t remember a time where he’d flung himself back like that without cause, without having accidentally injured him.

“Why?” he breathed. No one answered. They just waited until he stilled and rose, chest aching and fingers trembling. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Konoha said. “He looked on edge the whole time. And when the fire happened… he just freaked out. Did anything happen with fires when you were together? Anything that would make him afraid of them?”

Tooru shook his head, even as he raked through his memories, fought to find an answer. “No… no. _Nothing._ He’s never been afraid of fire.”

“Maybe it startled him?” Komi broke in. “Maybe he forgot it wasn’t real?”

“Maybe…” Konoha murmured. Tooru bit his lip, twisted to peer into the room. Sparks of electricity still flew off Keiji, but smaller now, less frequent. He still rocked in place though, hands worrying his hair. A touch jerked him back as Konoha squeezed his shoulder, eyes soft, uncertain. “We’ll figure it out. I’m sure it’s just a minor, one-time thing.”

Tooru could only nod.

* * *

 

“Keichan, c’mon!”

Keiji rolled his eyes, but he picked up the pace a little and Tooru reached out, caught his hand, and tugged him along, grinning as he bounced down the street. “You’re excited,” Keiji teased as he poked Tooru in the cheek. “Is it happening?”

“Yes!” he cried, “Hajime is _finally_ going to ask Kentarou! Took him fucking long enough, I swear.”

“Not everyone is impatient for everything like you.”

_“Rude.”_

Keiji snorted, but he didn’t say anymore, and Tooru satisfied himself with a hum and a kiss to Keiji’s cheek as he swung their hands between them, eyes raking over the town. They were back in Miyagi for the weekend, festival lights strung up in preparation for the coming events, lanterns hanging every meter or so in all sorts of bright colors with encouraging characters painted on them. He squeezed Keiji’s fingers.

They walked quickly through the streets drenched in sunset hues, further and further until they reached a familiar park, one that Hajime and Tooru had spent long, sweltering summer days in, sucking on sweet orange slices and tossing pebbles at one another, racing around through mud or dry dirt, tackling each other to the ground and wrestling in the grass. The days before reality had sunk in, before powers and insecurities had manifested. Before the park had become a place to hide and later be found, seeking each other out and climbing the structures to sit next to each other, hold one another tight as they cried, or simply tried to _exist._

But this time, it was different. No tears awaited him this time - none from grief and uncertainty anyways.

They strode through the park, fireflies coming to life, the streams that cut through it gurgling quietly on rocks, frogs croaking in the quiet. They wound their way through his old haunts, ghosts lingering around every bend. The tree split by lightning that he and Hajime had lorded over one autumn, playing as kings in its sturdy branches, and the place Hajime had gone when his powers had presented, making the buds shrivel and die despite how warm the spring night air had been. The swing set, where their parents had pushed them when they were younger, shrieking with delight, and then they themselves took their bodies to great heights as the years passed, though sometimes they'd remained grounded, feet dragging the ground, too weary to move. The sandbox, where they'd built clumsy fortresses that disappeared under their small feet - the same one he'd sat in, shadows tearing at him, when his knee had given out.

But, stronger still, was the man beside him, and the two figures waiting on the bridge, illuminated by lanterns and lights, one of them fidgeting nervously. Tooru grinned, tightened his grip on Keiji's hand. “Let's go.”

* * *

 

“Keichan. C’mon, Keichan, just a little bit more. You’ve been doing so well.”

Keiji bared his teeth. “Don’t wanna,” he grunted, but he slapped the cards on the table and flipped one over, revealing the image of a robin. His hand rose and hovered over the other cards, hesitating as his fingers trailed from card to card. Tooru no longer had to bite his tongue - the last five months had worn that away, leaving him only with faint curls of nervous anticipation as he watched Keiji’s hand falter, then finally descend to flip another card over. The second robin.

Keiji grinned, eyes narrowed with concentration as he pulled the two out and shoved them aside with his weaker arm, though ‘weaker’ was a bit of a stretch after so long. His motor skills and strength had improved enough that they no longer needed to work his arm every day. Now it was his legs and mind they were focused on, a grueling process that had slowed, that much they all knew. Especially with how belligerent Keiji had been as of late. He’d barely managed to coax Keiji off his bed and to the chair to go through the simple memory game.

Tooru glanced back to the observation window, the weight of the stares painfully heavy, though he couldn’t see their owners. He turned back to Keiji, smiled as he scooted a little closer. “Great job, Keiji. Do another for me.”

His only response was to crinkle his nose and sigh harshly, but Keiji dragged his fingers along a card and flipped it over to show a black dog. His hand darted forward, to the top of the arrangement, and he flipped it over - a tree. Keiji grimaced, but didn’t say anything when Tooru turned them back over and brushed his fingers across Keiji’s arm, a faint shock prickling through his fingers.

“That’s okay. You know it is. It’s alright. Just keep going.”

Keiji’s eyes cut away, but after a moment he started to flip cards over again, slowly but surely matching the pairs until the final two were set aside and Keiji slumped back in his chair as Tooru leaned forward to rearrange the cards for the fifth time. Keiji had gotten faster every time, and was exponentially faster than he had been when they’d first begun, yet something didn’t feel right. Something _felt_ off in his sounds, his words, his increasingly rare facial expressions.

Tooru’s hands stilled on the cards as he looked to Keiji, who had his chin to his chest, eyes fixed on his hands as they rubbed together, nails dragging on his skin, leaving red scores behind. Keiji’s jaw worked, shoulders tense as he started to scratch at his left hand, a spot just above the wrist. A spot he’d been worrying periodically throughout the day.

Tooru set the remaining cards down and fully turned to Keiji, reaching out slowly. His fingers brushed cool skin and a sound broke the quiet as Keiji snatched his hands back, pulled them into his chest as he stared at Tooru, eyes narrowed slightly. Tooru felt the bottom of his stomach drop out. “Keiji?” he whispered.

Keiji bit his lip, jerked his head away, leaving Tooru staring at too-long black curls that fell to the nape of his neck.

“Hey… Keichan…”

His arms twitched, pulled in tighter. Tooru smiled weakly, scooted a little closer, barely seated on his chair anymore.

“Keiji, are you alright? Is everything okay? You can tell me if anything is wrong. I promise I’ll do everything I can to make things better.” Because nothing terrified him more than Keiji hating him for doing _something_ wrong. For being so selfish as to never move on. For pushing him so hard, trying for something they both knew was little more than a pipe dream. Nothing except for the idea of Keiji _hurting._ From what, it didn’t matter. Just so long as Keiji was safe, taken care of, as happy as he could be - he could live with that. _But this isn’t living. This isn’t what he’d want. One day I’ll get you out. I will, I promise._

“Keichan?” he tried again.

Keiji straightened up, twisted around, and faced Tooru. His face was blank, totally unreadable, and his eyes dropped from Tooru’s face to his neck. A hand rose, drifted through the air between them until it brushed across skin with a faint shock - and then to the chain around Tooru’s neck. His shoulders hitched, chest going tight as he froze, their eyes locked on one another. He could feel the cool heat of Keiji’s hand, could feel that empty stare breaking him open, piece by piece, without even trying, something he’d done so many times, and Tooru had never stood a chance to. “Rings?” Keiji whispered.

“Do you… do you want to see them?”

Keiji nodded.

Tooru drew back, pulled the rings over his head and let the chain pool into Keiji’s hand, the rings clinking together quietly. Keiji curled his hand around them and rose, retreated to the edge of the room and sank down to the floor, back to the wall, feet crossed over one another and knees pulled in tight to his chest. His hands settled above his feet and uncurled, the rings glinting in the light. Keiji’s hands trailed across them, tracing the dark surface with a soft, wistful expression that made Tooru’s chest clench. He pressed his hand to his heart, tried to breathe as he watched Keiji fiddle with their rings, drawing the chain between his fingers and humming softly to himself. Tooru rose. Crossed the room on shaky legs and knelt beside Keiji.

“Keichan?”

Gray eyes flicked up. A shy smile curled Keiji’s lips and he reached out, clasped Tooru’s hand, and held out the rings. “Marry me?”

It took everything he had to not wheeze out a breath, to not allow his face to fall as he forced a bright smile to his lips, even as a familiar searing sensation settled between his eyes. “Of course, Keiji. I’d always marry you.”

Keiji hummed happily and reached forward, Tooru’s ring between his fingers, still on the chain. It was cool as Keiji slid it forward, the weight unfamiliar after having spent so many months around his neck. But he didn’t move, didn’t protest - just watched, desperately trying to stop the tears. Oblivious, Keiji stroked the back of Tooru’s hand, faint tingles of electricity bubbling through Tooru’s nerves, making his fingers twitch. His eyes flicked away, unable to meet Keiji’s eyes, proud and delighted, to see the innocence of forgetting on his face. They found his arm instead, drawn in by color against the white - purple, harsh, dark, stained with blues, yellowed on the edges. A _bruise._

“Keiji,” he said softly, and Keiji paused with his touches, blinking in confusion. “Where did you get that bruise?”

His head cocked to the side. His eyes snapped wide a second later and he grimaced, tugged at his sleeve, hiding the discolored flesh as he hugged his arm into his chest. “Hit it,” he mumbled. “Wood.”

Tooru glanced back to the chairs. The backs of them were good places to hit and cause bruises - but on the underside of his arm? _What would he have even been doing over there?_ Tooru twisted back, reached out, but Keiji shied away, curling in on himself as he stared at Tooru, totally closed off. _Does he not remember me? Does he not_ trust _me?_ He didn’t know, wasn’t sure. It had been happening more often lately, Keiji drawing away from him, fighting, resisting. _What’s going on?_

“Keiji?” he whispered, voice trembling. “Keiji, it’s me.”

“Know.”

“Then… look at me? Talk to me? _Please_ Keiji?”

Keiji jerked his head away instead, staring resolutely at his bed across the room.

Tooru squeezed his hands tight. Sucked down a breath and tried to ignore the way _everything_ ached, bone-deep and unforgiving. He rose, legs somehow weaker than before. He managed a weak smile. “Okay. I’ll give you some space.”

No call or plea stopped him. He simply walked out and found Konoha waiting, but he brushed past the hero, left the observation room. Quick footsteps echoed after him, Konoha just a step behind, and together they walked to the break room, the burning inside building and building with every painstaking step. Only when the door closed behind him and he was seated on the couch did he let it all break out, tears dribbling to the floor as he hunched in on himself, forehead to knees. “Why?” he whispered, “What’s happened? He’s never… _never_ closed himself off like this.”

“I don’t know,” Konoha murmured.

“Just… _why?_ Keiji has been doing _so well,_ and just… Fuck!” Tooru snapped back upright, scrubbing his cheeks frantically. “Konoha, he had a bruise. Have they been doing tests? Anything weird?”

Konoha shook his head, flicked his hand and produced another lollipop. “No. The night crew said that he went into a fit last night and hurt himself - that’s probably where that bruise came from.”

“Do they have video feeds?”

Konoha’s eyes narrowed. He leaned forward from his perch on the table, fingers crinkling the candy wrapper. “Are you insinuating that we’re doing something we shouldn’t be doing?”

Tooru bared his teeth for a moment, anger hot in his gut - but it shattered apart after a moment and he slumped back. He didn’t have the energy for anger, just for a weary smile as he shook his head. “No. I just want to know for sure. If nothing is happening, then you’ll have access to the videos. I just want to make sure Keiji is safe. You want the same, don’t you? Just like you would if it was Bokuto in there.”

Konoha pursed his lips, glanced away. His hands were tight, knuckles white. He nodded. “Fine. I’ll do it. I can’t guarantee I’ll get them in the next few days-”

“That’s fine, don’t worry. Just… as soon as you can, okay?”

“... Okay.”

* * *

 

“Tooru.”

He glanced over, looked to Hajime his head slowly turned, searching the city skyline for signs of activity. “Yeah? What’s up?”

Hajime turned to him, his visor going translucent, the faint interior lights washing his face in a soft blue. “How’s Keiji doing? I know you said he was sick again.”

Tooru sighed, rubbed his hand along his helmet and shook his head as he picked at the stone under their feet. “He’s still dazed. He kept asking who I was. I asked Issei to watch him while we were out.”

“You could’ve stayed.”

Tooru snorted, lips pursed. “No, I really couldn’t. You know they don’t like it when we call out last minute, and with Shinji still out of commission-”

“Yeah. I know. Sorry.”

Tooru shrugged. “It’s okay.” But, really, it wasn’t. He wasn’t entirely focused, and he could feel the tug of the shadows on his stomach, dancing along the strip of rooftop he was perched on. He couldn’t hold still - he’d stood and paced the roof half a dozen times already. _I just want to go home._ He wanted to nurse Keiji back to health, to lower that too-high fever and bring him back to a reality where he _knew_ Tooru, knew where he was. “It scares me, how often he gets like this lately.”

“You said he went to the doctor though.” “He _did,_ but they didn’t find anything wrong. Not even with his blood. No autoimmune disorders, nothing like that. He just…”

“Maybe it’s just natural.”

“Maybe…” But that didn’t mean it didn’t _terrify_ him. Every time he heard a thump at the door his heart leapt, and the later it was the worse it got. The thought of Keiji getting so sick that he forgot to message Tooru, forgot that he could call a cab, and walking back home in a daze - it left chills in his stomach, left his stomach turning when the hours dragged on. Normally he bounced back quickly, within the day, but this one had lasted for days, and he was almost ready to take Keiji to the hospital, no matter how much he protested.

“Just calm down and focus,” Hajime said softly. “He’ll be okay. Issei knows what he’s doing. Keiji will be fine, and I’m sure he’ll recover soon.”

“I know,” Tooru sighed, “I just… worry.”

“It’d be weird if you didn’t,” Hajime chuckled. “Just-”

_“Babylon, ChromeStar, come in.”_

“Babylon here. What’s up, Shigeru?”

_“You’ve got a bank robbery in progress twelve blocks north from your location. Police are heading there now, but they’re requesting your backup.”_

“Right,” Tooru chirped, “On our way!” They both rose and whipped around, grinning as they darted to the other side of the roof and leapt.

* * *

 

“Just go home for the day,” Konoha sighed. Tooru stiffened, whipped around, but Konoha stood straighter, looming over him as he waved a slip of paper. “I will knock you out. Look, not only was he not cooperating, but he gave you a strong shock. You’re lucky you’re even conscious right now, dumbass. It’s better to just give him space. I know you’ve only been here for two hours, but I’m not going to let you go back in there, and you’re wasting your time by sitting there and watching him, alright?”

“I _know_ that,” Tooru snapped as he rubbed at his hand, trying to work the clenched muscles into some form of relaxation. The last shock had made his entire arm seize up, painfully tight, and despite the half hour that had passed, it was still uncomfortably tight. But, even worse, was the uncertainty, the sense of _wrong_ that clawed at him. _Something isn’t right. Why is he acting so weird?_ Everything had slowed, dragged to a halt, and it left him reeling, uncertain of what to do, where to go, how to move forward.

“Go home,” Konoha said again, softer this time. “The girls will watch him, and Komi’s with him today. It’ll be alright, promise. Just go rest. I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

Tooru bit his cheek, looked away. He _was,_ there was no denying that. The last five months had been devoted wholly to Keiji, to ensuring that he got the best he could be offer. He spent long days, twelve hours usually, with him, dealing with shocks, the mood swings, the instability, leaving him drained and weak. He spent nights researching, scouring the internet for more techniques, more things to do to help Keiji, particularly when he struggled. _And now it’s all crumbling apart._ “Fine…” he sighed.

Konoha offered him a small smile. “Good. Call your friends. Tell them you want to see them. I’m sure you haven’t been doing that much lately.”

Tooru grimaced, ducked his head. The words hit too close to home - contact to Hajime, Kentarou, and others had dwindled, almost nonexistent unless Hajime demanded he answer, or simply appeared in his house and forced Tooru to have some social contact outside of Fukurodani. _I’m such a shit person._ He slid his phone out, shot a message to Hajime, Kentarou, Issei, and Takahiro, and shoved his phone back into his pocket as he tried flexing his fingers while Sarukui undid the blood pressure cuff from his arm.

“Alright,” the doctor sighed, “You’re free to go. Your arm should loosen up in an hour or two. If not, you’ll need to get that looked at.”

“I never would’ve thought,” Tooru drawled, but he slid off the examination table and glanced back at the doctor. “Thanks.”

Sarukui smiled. “It’s no problem.”

Tooru let Konoha lead him from the medical wing, walking down familiar routes to the garage. It was hard to climb back into that car that he’d crawled into just a few short hours before - but he had no choice, and Konoha gave his shoulder a sympathetic squeeze before he shut the door and disappeared behind the black window. Tooru sagged back, glanced at his phone. Texts from Hajime, Issei, and Takahiro waited on him - all agreeing to be there in a few hours. That made Tooru smile a little as he drew his legs onto the seat, fingers curling around the rings and holding them tight, warm in his hands.

_Hopefully this will pass._

He staggered out of the car when it stopped, blinking at the front of his house, the sunlight almost blinding. Tooru heaved a sigh and trudged up the path, kicked his shoes off, collapsed onto his couch.

He only had to wait thirty minutes for Issei and Takahiro to practically bust down his door, Takahiro carrying boxes of steaming pizza while Issei brought beer, milk bread, and a cake. Tooru sat up, watched as they set all the things down and leaned in to crush him into a tight hug. It was painfully familiar, snatched him back to high school when they’d forced him down onto the bench and told him to rest, hugged him tight and told him that he deserved it, that he’d done enough, more than enough. That _he_ was enough. Tears pricked at his eyes as Tooru reached up, curled his hands into their shirts and held on tight, breathing in the scent of cologne and food.

“Thanks guys,” he whispered into their shoulders.

“Of course,” Takahiro murmured. “But next time, maybe don’t give us such short notice, yeah?”

Tooru could only manage a thin, watery smile before they started to dart all around his house. Someone dumped a plate with steaming slices of cheese pizza into his lap. Another pressed a beer into his other hand. They bickered over what movie to watch, and by the time they settled on one and had it set to play there was another knock, though no one had to rise. Hajime unlocked it himself and let he and Kentarou in.

Tooru was mildly surprised Hajime didn’t wrestle him to the ground, but instead hugged him, but he melted into the embrace all the same, realization snapping through him, sharp and unforgiving. _I missed this._ He’d missed his friends and hadn’t even realized it, consumed by Keiji. Had longed for a way to release all the emotions he’d crammed down in the last year, to cut back and enjoy himself for five minutes. But sharp teeth of guilt worried him, left him dazed as he stared blankly at the TV, the sound of their voices in his ears.

_I’m so selfish._

That was nothing new, not at all - he’d been selfish since he was young, they all knew it. Over his position, over Hajime, over his desire to improve, improve, _improve,_ over Keiji. _I couldn’t just_ leave _him._

Tooru pressed a hand to his face, sucked down a breath. Issei’s hand settled on his back, warm and grounding, and Tooru managed a fragile smile as he shook his head. “Thank you guys… really.”

“Of course,” Issei sang, “Gotta make sure you take care of yourself, dumbass!”

“Really though,” Takahiro said as he prodded Tooru’s side, “We’re always here for you, no matter what. We love you, and you taking care of the person you love isn’t going to chase us away.”

“Agreed,” Hajime grunted. Kentarou merely nodded along, but Tooru grinned at all four of them, biting back tears as he looked from one friend to another.

“Great,” he sniffed, “Let’s eat some fucking pizza.”

* * *

 

Tooru spun his ring around, grinning as he watched the light catch on it, glittering and bright. He pressed his hands to his face and squirmed, all those butterflies he remembered from that first date abruptly back, swarming him with raw _joy_ as he threw his hand into the air and grinned up at the ring. “God…” he breathed.

_I can’t believe it._

Perhaps he should have though - they’d been together for five years, living together for three. There had been subtle comments, teasing jokes tossed around, always disregarded with _“I’m already living with you, why do I need to marry you too?”_ But last night had taken dreams he’d been dancing around for months and thrown them to the stars, something to ingrain in his mind for the rest of his life. It hadn’t been anything big or flashy, hadn’t needed to be - Keiji was simple, beautiful, honest, and the night before had felt so much more genuine than any of the half-formed ideas he’d ever dreamt up.

Tooru pulled his hand tight to his chest, smile softening as he resettled himself on their bed. “This is amazing.”

_Except…_

His eyes cracked open. Found the ceiling, pale and smooth. A shadow congealed above him, a small, rippling blob. “I know,” he breathed. He had to tell Keiji - tell him _everything._ About himself, Hajime, his job, and do much more. Had to explain why he'd lied and desperately hope and pray that he would understand, that Keiji would listen to him all the way through, smile, cup his face and kiss him and say that yes, he was hurt, but he understood, that it was okay. That they would be okay.

_Today. I’ll tell him today._

There was no way to do it properly, no amount of nice dinners and favorite dishes or sweet songs and hesitant texts that could help it. There was only throwing himself from the pan to the fire and praying that Keiji would catch him before he burned. Tooru pulled his hand close, kissed the ring.

“Tonight,” he breathed.

Music shattered the quiet and he rolled over, snatched it up, pressed it to his ear. “Hello?”

_“Get in to work already. You’re supposed to patrol in twenty.”_

Tooru sighed. “So rude, Hajime.” His friend merely hung up and Tooru dropped his phone with a huff, head his hand above him once more. He smiled. _I can’t wait._

* * *

 

Tooru jerked upright, body covered in sweat, heart pounding, blood rushing through his ears. His limbs shook as he drew them in, knees to his chest, hands pressed over his face. Red still flashed in his eyes, bright bursts of light and engulfing darkness on its tail. Fear with brutal teeth that tore through him, stripped flesh from bone and left him bare, listening to another’s screams leave his lips. Tooru’s fingers found skin, bit in.

One breath.

Two.

Twenty.

Slowly, the terror began to fade. His body unclenched, left him quivering on damp sheets as he hesitantly uncurled himself, glanced to the clock. Three in the morning. _I’m not going back to sleep._ He could see it too clearly, see Keiji’s face painted scarlet, whispering _“Who are you?”_ over and over, a constant mantra as something flung him down, ripped him limb from limb. Tooru clenched his fist, buried his nails into his palm. The pain cut through the daze, cleared his thoughts a little, and Tooru sucked down another breath, shook his head.

_A dream. Just a dream._

He threw his legs out of bed, staggered out into the kitchen and leaned heavily against the sink before he turned on the water, cold as possible, and splashed his face. That helped a little, as did the scent of tea when it started to brew a few minutes later, Tooru watching it closely. _Today’s going to be long. Keiji’s legs are a lot better, but he hates trying to read._ Something wholly different from before. The Keiji from before Ginza had read with a voracious appetite, rarely putting a book down when he had the chance to cozy up on the couch under a pile of blankets. But now he shoved them away, grumbling, tugging at his hair, distressed from how difficult had become.

_I hate this. Would he even want this?_

He didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to know. Tooru ran his hand along his face, sighed, and poured himself a cup of tea, leaned against the counter.

A knock broke the silence.

Tooru’s eyes snapped open as he went still. More knocks, three this time, and louder. He set the mug aside, shadows gathering in his palm as he slid over to the front door on quiet feet, peeked through the curtains. The street light illuminated a little, but not much - just enough to see the outlines of three figures, one positively _massive,_ towering above the other two.

“Oikawa Tooru? We know you’re in there. I can hear you. We’re not here to hurt you. We’re here to talk about Akaashi Keiji. Tall guy, skinny, currently brain damaged?”

Tooru’s hands clenched tight, no longer breathing. _What?_ No one knew about that - no one outside of Fukurodani, himself, Hajime, and Kentarou. And no one from Fukurodani paid him unannounced late-night visits at three in the morning. Even _Konoha_ had standards. _They're likely gifted then, so-_

“Yes, we are gifted, so- look, just open the door, it's raining and I want some of your tea. You can use your powers to keep you safe if you want.”

Tooru but his cheek, but he moved, unlocked the door, and stepped back, both hands raised, curls of light and shadow in his palms. The door opened. A head poked in and turned right towards him, the man grinning brightly as he waggled his eyebrows. “Hi there! Pardon the intrusion.” He stepped further in, shifting as his companions joined him, and Tooru raked his eyes over them.

The first was a fairly tall guy with black hair plastered to his head, some hanging in front of his eyes that he swept back with a disgruntled frown as he tugged at his soaked clothes. The second was smaller, his hair black and extremely short, hands fluttering as he stared at Tooru with wide eyes before glancing away, back, away once more. The last - he made Tooru take a step back. He was huge, built like a boxer or some bruiser from a gang, a little strange with no eyebrows and bright white hair. They were all soaked to the bone, and the smallest one was shivering faintly as he pressed into the white-haired man’s side.

“Thanks,” the first one said.

Tooru’s hands curled as the seething masses of light and darkness in his hands spread. “You have thirty seconds to tell me who you are, why you’re here, and how you know about Keiji.”

The first man’s eyes widened and he grimaced. “Okay, fine. I’m Kuroo Tetsurou, little dude is Fukunaga Shouhei - we’re from Nekoma. Big dude is Aone Takanobu from Date Tech. We’re here because Shouhei can- okay, look, it’s gonna take a lot longer than thirty seconds to explain his powers, but you can trust us, alright? Ever heard of Panther?”

Tooru’s eyes narrowed. “I have.”

“How about Ironclad?”

He glanced at the big guy, Aone, who met his stare with a faint nod. Tooru snorted, shook his head, and jerked his head to Fukunaga. “What about him?”

Fukunaga’s hand found Aone’s shirt, clutching tight as his eyes closed, pain flickering across his face. Kuroo’s arm rose, as if putting that between he and Tooru could somehow stop whatever was going on or might happen. His dark eyes were hard, lips thin. “He’s not a hero.”

Fukunaga nodded his head faintly, hands twitching in Aone’s black shirt before he let go, grabbed Kuroo’s arm.

Kuroo glanced back, eyes narrowing, but he sighed and turned to Tooru. “Look, I know you have no reason to trust us - we’re three strangers with powers on your door in the middle of the night, but it’s important. Shouhei - he doesn’t get frantic like he did unless it’s _bad_.” The smaller man grimaced, nodded again.

Tooru held his hands up for a moment longer before he sighed, allowed his hands to fall, the light and shadows sinking back into their places. “Fine… but I will incapacitate you all if you even _think_ about doing anything.”

Kuroo’s smile was cat-like as he nodded. “Of course. Now… do you have any towels?”

Tooru grimaced, but he ushered them down the hall, not willing to stand in front of them, and pulled towels from the closet, tossed them at Kuroo, and let them lead the way back to the kitchen. He had to turn his back to make tea, and he was hyperaware of every shift, every noise, every little detail. But soon the three were seated at his table in various states of undress - Kuroo all the way down to his boxers, Fukunaga much the same, though he’d at least wrapped the towel around himself, knees to his chest, cradling the mug to his chest with a pleased hum, and Aone was still fully dressed, the towel draped over his head from where Kuroo had dropped it onto him.

Tooru sat on the counter so he could face them all and crossed his legs, worried the rim of his mug, though he didn’t drink. “So… why are you all here?”

“Long explanation or-”

“Long, you numbskull.”

Kuroo grinned with a shrug and he rocked forward, settled his arms onto the table. “Right, Shouhei’s powers are very… _intimate._ He’s an empath, and an extreme one at that. He can sense a person’s pain - emotional distress, physical pain, the whole nine yards - and, how he explains it, it comes to him in sound. The stronger it is, the louder, and the clearer. He can see things with it too - faces, places, so on. Well, he heard someone _screaming_ your name.”

Fukunaga’s fingers tightened on his mug as he drew his limbs in closer and, just like that, he looked like a kid, someone terrified and hurt and unsure. “So loud…” Fukunaga whispered into his mug with a shiver. Somehow, Tooru got the idea that it wasn’t from being wet or cold.

Kuroo squeezed Fukunaga’s shoulder, eyes flicking to Tooru. “I haven’t seen him drop like that in years. And, because we were so close, _I_ could hear it too.”

“Secondary power of telepathy?”

“Minor, yeah. I have to be within a few meters of people. Shouhei though - his can detect anything a kilometer out. So we don’t go to cities very often.” Kuroo sighed, ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at it as he looked at Shouhei for a moment. “He’s sensitive. It was _bad_. I thought he was going to pass out - shit, _I_ almost passed out. That… That was the loudest he’d ever heard, and it didn’t stop. Taka was there thankfully, and he got us back out of range. It took a long time to calm him down.”

“But we went back.”

Tooru’s eyes snapped over to Aone, drawn by the deep voice, his first words. “Why?” Tooru whispered.

“Had to,” Fukunaga said simply.

Kuroo laughed faintly, shook his head. “What he means is that he was drawn to it. That pain - it hurt him, but he wanted to help, wanted to make it stop. So we went back. It was hard, but thankfully it wasn’t in the city, not close. We got to the edge of the facility, by this huge stone fence, and that’s when he saw _you._ Your face, clear as day, and heard your name - _‘Tooru. Oikawa. Tooru’_ \- over and over again, deafening, like a drum beating your name into our skulls. And something else - a snake.”

Tooru stiffened, straightened up, set his mug aside. “A snake?”

Fukunaga grimaced, rubbed his face.

Kuroo nodded. “A snake. Well, something like a snake. It was too dark - whatever it was, Akaashi couldn’t see it clearly. But it’s hurting him. He’s _terrified_.”

Tooru flew off the counter and slammed against the table, hands slapping the wood as he leaned close. “Keiji’s scared? He’s hurt? He’s-”

Tooru froze as Kuroo’s face contorted, one hand going to his forehead as he reached for Fukunaga, who had shrunk in even further on himself if possible, eyes wide, pupils mere pinpricks as he gasped, shuddering violently. A hand landed on his shoulder, jarring, and Tooru whirled around, found his head craning back as Aone loomed over him. “You need to calm down.”

Tooru gaped at him, tried to pull away, but Aone’s grip was tight, commanding. He pressed a hand over his heart, felt it throbbing as he swayed in place, hands twitching, trembling. _He can’t be hurt. He can’t be._ Not after everything he’d been through. Not after Ginza, not after sacrificing himself for so many. Not after losing _everything_ that he could and barely recovering any of it. And yet- signs, so many signs. The shying away. The recent uncooperativeness. The _bruises. I’ll kill whoever is hurting him. I’ll-_

“Tooru.” He jerked, found Aone closer to him, crowding his face, dark eyes wide. “Calm down, or I will take care of matters myself.”

Tooru wrenched himself out of the hero’s grip, wrapped his arms around himself, sucked down a breath. He bit his tongue, choked on the hot rage that pulsed through his veins, but he forced another breath down, then another still. Again and again, over and over, dragging thoughts away from a blood-stained face, from long nights filled with demons of a wholly different breed, of blank expressions and echoes of _“Who are you?”_ as he tried to calm down. Those words had struck deep, found the gaping hole he’d poorly closed up and buried beneath long days of helping Keiji through rehabilitation, beneath a sense of purpose - and they’d torn it wide open again. He wanted to dissolve, wanted to fling shadows all throughout the room and suffocate in them, or even throw himself outside into the rain, to give himself over to it and let it fill his eyes, his mouth, thunder and lightning swallowing him whole.

But he reigned himself in, stomped it down, and opened his eyes. Kuroo looked more at ease, one of his hands on Fukunaga’s back as Aone hovered over him, speaking softly in his ears as Fukunaga rocked on the chair, breathing slowing.

Kuroo glanced up, smiling wryly. “You haven’t done much healing.”

“What do you expect?” Tooru croaked. “We were… he asked me to marry him and then died the next morning, the same day I was supposed to tell him who I was. I found out he was the villain I’d been fighting for years - realized I’d killed him. Spent four months unable to control my powers, grieving, only to find out he’s been alive, and then to find out that he has so much brain damage that he may never truly remember me. What do you fucking _expect?_ That I’d have moved on, gotten a new partner, erased him from my life?”

Fukunaga’s eyes clenched shut again. “Please… stop.”

Kuroo’s eyes snapped back over. “I know buddy, I know. Keep breathing deep, okay? It’ll be okay.” He glanced back to Tooru, shrugged. “I don’t expect anything else. You just hide it well - enough that Shouhei only felt what was on the surface. I guess we didn’t have enough tact.”

“Shocker,” Tooru snorted.

Kuroo only managed a thin-lipped smile before he turned back to Fukunaga, sweeping his hands down his back. It took a few minutes for the young man to unclench, to relax enough for Aone to return to his seat, though Kuroo’s hand lingered on his back. He gave it another minute before he spoke, voice controlled, emotions carefully in check.

“So… Keiji is hurting?”

“Yes. He’s furious too - though Shouhei thinks that’s not related. There were faces he saw - himself and you.”

“... He’s angry with himself?”

Kuroo nodded. Tooru closed his eyes. Clenched his hands and focused on the pain that prickled through his palms as his nails bit in. Of course Keiji was angry with himself - he knew something was wrong, that he was struggling with his rehabilitation - and perhaps that was for more reasons than he thought. But he knew Keiji recognized that things were wrong with himself, that it angered him. And that left Tooru’s stomach churning as he drew in a steadying breath as thunder rolled overhead.

“When?”

“Two nights ago,” Aone rumbled, “Late. Midnight.”

“Big guy’s right. The route was out of our way, but… we had something to do.”

This time it was Fukunaga who reached out, fresh pain tightening his face as he squeezed Kuroo’s bicep. Kuroo smiled weakly, covered the smaller man’s hand with his own as he fixed his eyes to the table. There was age-old grief in his eyes, dulled, but no less vicious as his soft voice broke the quiet. “Kozume Kenma. Eighteen when he was murdered, just for having powers. I could hear him, you know? I heard him screaming as his parents beat him to death. And I couldn’t do a thing.”

A small noise in the back of his throat escaped Tooru, and Kuroo shook his head, ran his fingers through his hair, tugging harder this time. “Yeah. Brutal. It made the news.”

“I remember.”

“Not surprising. Sent a lot of us underground after that. But… yeah. We all agreed that whatever it was, we needed to find you, let you know.”

Tooru nodded, hands flexing, shadows curling in wispy strands around his fingers. “I can get in there. They let me go in and help with Keiji. I need to find out a bit more, but when I do, can you lead me there?”

Kuroo’s grin was feral, white lightning illuminating his face. “Absolutely.”

* * *

 

Tooru hummed as he tossed his helmet in the air, dancing and tapping his feet on the locker room floor. The grin he’d had since he’d woken up, kissed Keiji goodbye, studied his ring hadn’t faded away, and the excitement bubbling in him left the lights overhead flickering as he bobbed his head. _I’m going to marry Keiji._ Of course, the damper of _“I need to tell Keiji that I’m kind of a superhero and have been lying to you for five years, but…”_ was ever-present, but compared to the excitement of everything else, it paled in comparison. _It’ll be okay. Keiji will be fine with it. I’m sure he will be._

Tooru somehow found the room to smile a little wider as he tugged his boots on and laced them up, and stood. His armband chirped and Tooru glanced at it, tapped the pulsing yellow square. A projection appeared, pale blue with white text and a picture beside it, Keiji’s smiling face, all bright eyes and dark curls.

**From Keichan (●** **♡∀♡** **):  
I love you. I’ll see you tonight**

Tooru grinned and closed the message. _I’ll respond later._ But the message was enough to buoy him, putting a little something extra in his step as he snatched his helmet up, closed his locker, and jogged out of the locker room. He made it to the entrance when another chirp came in.

_“ChromeStar, you ready?”_

“Yep! Tell me where I’m headed!”

_“Ginza. Got an anonymous tip that there was a bomb. Take it out and neutralize any targets there.”_

“Gotcha, gotcha. I’m on my way!” Tooru cut the link and grinned as he teleported further out, bubbles in his chest, light already streaming from his fingertips.

_Soon Keiji, soon._

* * *

 

Tooru marched straight to Konoha the second he arrived and grabbed his arm, bruisingly tight, even as he flashed the hero a brilliant grin. “Kono-chan! So good to see you! What are we doing today? More memorization games? Or Scrabble? I know Keiji likes that one!”

Konoha’s eyes widened, then narrowed, but he shrugged, the façade falling into place instantly. “Probably just some brain games. _If_ he cooperates.”

“Oh, agreed,” Tooru pouted, “But I’m sure Keichan will respond eventually! He’s just in a rough patch right now!”

Tooru pushed on Konoha, squeezing his arm tighter as they hustled through the doors, feet moving quickly. Tooru pressed closer, lips practically to Konoha’s ear. “I need to talk with you,” he hissed.

“Likewise,” Konoha whispered back.

Tooru’s steps stuttered, but he recovered quickly, slinging his arm over Konoha’s shoulder as he prodded the man’s side. “When?”

“Not here. Not at your house. Might be bugged. I’ll give you a slip later. You told me to find what to trust - and I can’t trust Fukurodani anymore.”

Tooru bit his tongue, but he grinned and kept moving, chattering away about Keiji, about _anything_ that could hide the clamoring uncertainty and fear inside that threatened to throw him under.

_I have to know what’s going on._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nearly 17k later, I'm finally done ᕙ( ¤ ¤ )ᕗ Make sure to hit me up with some comments or scream at me on [tumblr](http://fairylights101writes.tumblr.com/)~  
> Also, _Supernova_ should only have another chapter or two (I'll be seeing where the next one goes, but after that we should be returning to the standalone shots for this series.


	4. Chapter 4

Tooru glanced at the little slip in his hand before he crammed it into his pocket and glanced around. He was in a cemetery of all places. Headstones jutting out from the grass, names and dates meticulously carved into them, flowers left by some of them. He scuffed his foot on the gravel path underfoot and bit his lip, hands curling tight in his pockets. Uneasiness left his gut turning, made him twitchy and ready to blast anything that moved - he'd nearly torched a rabbit like that. Twice. 

Tooru sighed, shook his head, and started to walk, counting the rows, scanning the names on them until he spotted a familiar set of characters - Bokuto Koutarou. He stilled in front of the headstone, studying the dates on it. Twenty-one.  _ He died young. And only Keiji knows the truth.  _ Because, as much as he wanted to believe that Bokuto had been killed by a fanatic, a freak occurrence that had been pure dumb luck, the chances were high that it had been orchestrated from the inside -  _ especially  _ with the new chaos rising from Fukurodani.  _ How many secrets do they have?  _

_ How many does Keiji have?  _

A hand brushed across his shoulder and Tooru jolted, light crackling off his fingers, but Kuroo squeezed his shoulder with a soft laugh. “Please don't. I'd  _ really _ like to get back to my house in one piece.” 

Tooru snorted and shook his head, glanced back.

Fukunaga had crouched by the edge of the path, twitching and glancing around as he fiddled with something on the ground - a bug. Aone loomed over him, massive and imposing, but Fukunaga looked at ease in his shadow, and he smiled faintly as he raised his hands, showed a little bug to his big friend, who nodded his head. Kuroo grinned. “I swear, they're so quiet that, if I didn't know better, I'd think they were robots.” Aone’s eyes cut over and Kuroo's grin stretched wider. “I love you too, big guy.” 

He turned back, studied the grave, his fingers tight on Tooru's shoulder. “I remember him.” 

Tooru froze, eyes wide, and whipped around. Kuroo looked over and they stated at one another, a step apart as Tooru fought for words, coherence. “You… knew Bokuto?” 

“Yeah, Kou was a pretty cool dude. We met on the court, back when our teams played. Course, you wouldn't have known he had powers unless you could read minds.” Kuroo shook his head, sank down beside the grave and started to tug at the grass and weeds that had started to strangle the base, seeking purchase on the sleek marble. “I talked to him after a match, and he was super wary, but he opened up quick. He didn't give anyone else away, but I knew. Guess that's why I wanted to help Akaashi so much - I saw him a lot, always with Bokuto. His mind was a lot tougher to read. Always kept it empty. Me and Kou, we weren't close or anything, but I knew him. Heard from him when he became a hero, and a few times after that. Then I saw him make the news.” 

Kuroo's fingers stilled in the grass and he glanced up, eyes narrowed against the glare of the early morning sun. “It was like Kenma all over again. I didn't hear him die, but it was still hard. To know another gifted died… it does something to you, especially when you knew them. Especially when, in another life, another world… you could've been friends.” 

“I know what you mean,” Tooru said softly. 

Kuroo grinned, a sad twist to his lips as he threw the strands of grass onto the ground. “It's a shitty life we've got, but we make the best of it. It's all we can do I suppose.” 

Movement made them all still, and one by one they turned to the path where a lone figure walked, head bowed, a dark hat pulled low over their face, hands stuffed in their pockets. “That him?” Kuroo whispered, hands curling by his sides as Aone subtly shifted in front of Fukunaga, settling there like a hulking wall. 

The person raised their head, just enough to catch sight of a white stick in their mouth. Tooru smiled. “Yeah. That's him.” 

Konoha was on them in a moment, shifting from foot to foot as he glanced around nervously. “You all left your phones at home, right?” 

“Unfortunately,” Tooru grumbled. 

Konoha scowled at him, but he shook his head and turned, head twisting to glance at their surroundings before he sighed and stepped forward. “Follow me.” He started to walk, pace brisk, and they followed close behind him, falling into step. He didn’t look to Bokuto’s grave, but Tooru saw the way Fukunaga and Kuroo winced as they strode past. 

They walked in silence, gravel crunching underfoot as they made their way along the paths between the graves, uniform, splashes of color here and there against the white marble and dying grass. Tooru shivered, glanced back to Fukunaga. His lips were pursed, just as they had been since they’d first walked in. Kuroo’s eyes flicked to him. He nodded his head.  _ So he can feel the echoes of pain here. Damn.  _ Tooru faced forward once more, steps rising in front of them, leading to the gargantuan mausoleum, an imposing structure of marble. 

Konoha produced a key with a flick of his hand and they made their way in, letting the door shut behind them with a slam to plunge them into a deafening silence, darkness sucking at the light that stole in through windows overhead. Tooru shuddered, but Konoha paid them no mind, moving forward through the space to the small chapel-like area in the center, rows of chairs facing a little platform where coffins would be set. The walls were lined with tombs, narrow, small, names and dates delicately carved into the marble. Hundreds of people, maybe more, sealed away forever.  _ Keiji was almost one of these.  _

His hands curled over his elbows, tightening as Konoha sank down onto the empty platform, gestured to the chairs in front of him. “Go ahead and sit. There’s a lot we have to discuss.” Tooru cast a glance back at the others, and then they all sank down, Kuroo and Tooru in the first row, Aone and Fukunaga on the opposite side of the aisle, three rows back. “So, these are the guys who told you about Akaashi?” 

“Yeah.” 

Kuroo leaned forward, eyes narrowed as he flicked his fingers to Konoha. “And you’re Konoha Akinori. I remember you. Pretty nice guy - when you wanted to be. Salty douchebag other times.” 

Tooru snorted. Konoha didn’t bother to respond. He merely shrugged and pulled his legs tighter into his chest. “Yeah, I know. I’m an asshole. Not surprising I’m with those guys then, I guess. You just… get caught up. You don’t realize what things are like until you start  _ seeing,  _ you know?” 

“Yeah. I do.” 

Tooru’s eyes snapped to Kuroo, but his face was hard, closed off, hands tight on his legs. In the corner of his eye, he could see Fukunaga twitch, eyes narrowed at Kuroo, before he refocused on the little bug he’d brought in, a spider with long legs that crawled across his hands. “So, I think we should all get out what we need to,” Konoha said. 

Kuroo leaned back. “You first.” 

Konoha simply nodded, fingers twisting together by his ankles, eyes settling overhead, somewhere far above. “Oikawa, you said to find what I could trust. So I tried to. Bokuto… his death was always under suspicious circumstances, and when Akaashi left - it was weird. He wouldn’t leave over an inside man going AWOL, that’s not how he is. So… I figured that something else had been happening. I guess I just didn’t want to accept it. After Akaashi stopped reacting positively for you, I knew something was up. I would come in sometimes and we’d have a nurse with him. She always told me that he’d hurt himself in the night, that he needed to be healed - I don’t think so. Komi is never on the night shift. I don’t know the people who are. But…” 

Konoha dragged his hands through his hair, head lolling forward and voice dropping as he whispered to the stone beneath his feet, voice echoing through the quiet. “I used my power to hide myself. Wasn’t that hard. They didn’t realize I’d slipped in. They weren’t gifted. It was average for night. Akaashi settled down around ten, eleven, and went to sleep. But, around midnight, the door opened.” 

“Oh, scary,” Kuroo grumbled. 

Tooru slapped his thigh as Konoha scowled at the hero, but he shook his head. 

“It was unusual, because we don’t have any scheduled shift changes then. And the person who came in… He wasn’t wearing scrubs, or the doctor’s uniform. None of our uniforms really. He was in a dark bodysuit, green tubing in the back and other stuff - a hero outfit I’ve never seen before. And he had a mask on. A snake mask.” 

Tooru stiffened. 

Kuroo straightening up beside him. “That’s the snake,” he whispered, “That’s the snake Shouhei saw.” Fukunaga flinched, setting the spider aside so he could hug himself as Aone settled a hand onto the middle of his back, their heads pressing together. Kuroo’s hands fisted up, eyes narrow. “That’s the fucker, that’s-” 

“Kuroo, shut up,” Tooru said. Kuroo’s eyes rose, hard, but he nodded after a moment, turned back to Konoha. 

The hero smiled wearily, shook his head, and shrugged. “It’s okay. It was… intense. Whoever it was, he had this aura around him… I couldn’t move, almost couldn’t breathe. I thought for sure he would notice me and rip my spleen out or something. But he walked right past. The night shift guys didn’t question, just… let him right in. Akaashi shot up in an instant and-  _ fuck,  _ he looked so scared. Oikawa, I’ve never seen him look like that,  _ ever,  _ but…” 

Tooru pressed his hands to his mouth, stomach roiling, cold and slick dread spilling in.  _ Please don’t. Please, please don’t say it.  _ Because, truly, a part of him didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to know Keiji had to suffer  _ more,  _ even more than he already had.  _ He’s been through so much already.  _ A breath shuddered out of Konoha, fingers trembling as he worked them through his hair once more before he sighed, looked up with weary eyes. “The person in the mask beat him. He caught Akaashi when he tried to run, threw him to the ground, and kicked him. I could hear his ribs snap.  _ I could hear him sobbing.  _ And when the person summoned fire…” 

Konoha’s face tightened. “He burned Akaashi. Kicked him onto his back and burned him. He was shocking everything, electricity going off the charts, but… it couldn’t touch the guy. Something in his suit… it was deflecting the currents, keeping Akaashi from getting to him. But after a while, he stopped, and he sank down, grabbed Akaashi by the hair, and hauled him up.” 

Tooru’s hands went tight on his knees. He wasn’t breathing. Would have thought his heart had stopped if it hadn’t been pulsing frantically in the back of his head, nearly drowning out Konoha as he leaned forward more and more, nearly on the edge of his seat as he trembled, mouth dry. “What happened?” he croaked. 

Konoha closed his eyes. “He said  _ ‘If you tell, I’ll kill him. We’ll figure out what makes you tick soon. We’ll have your powers soon.’  _ And then they slammed him to the ground and left.” 

One beat. 

Two. 

Tooru stood on jelly-filled legs. Strode forward, slow, but certain. 

He was on Konoha in a flash, slamming his head back against the marble as he shoved their faces close, screaming.  _ “Why the fuck didn’t you stop him?”  _ he shrieked, fists clenching in Konoha’s collar. “What the fuck were you  _ thinking,  _ letting him do that? You fucking piece of shit! You-” 

He choked off, cocked his fist, drove it into Konoha’s face. His head snapped to the side. Tooru pulled back, punched him again. Something cracked. Pain ripped through his hand, but he snarled, teeth bared, fires clawing through him as he brought his other hand in. Something crunched. Blood gushed from Konoha’s nose, spilling down his pale skin, rushing to the white stone below. 

Tooru felt a twist in his gut, darkness rising in a great wave behind him, coiling around his hand, winding in twisting, pulsing paths like vines that coated him from fingers to elbow.  _ “You son of a bitch.”  _ He cocked his fist again, teeth bared, snarling- 

A piercing scream ripped through the air. Tooru shuddered to a halt, then listed to the side, body writhing and spasming, hands slapping over his ears as he curled in on himself. The sound scraped through his head, grating, dragging through his skull. Everything was blurry, the world spinning, a harsh ringing  _ everywhere.  _

He hit the ground. Something dug into his back. 

Darkness. 

Dust. 

Red. 

Hands. 

Tooru blinked, the world slowly coming into focus. Fingers wiggled in front of his face. Eyes appeared, sharpening, clarity coming. His tongue moved, thick in his mouth. “Wha…?” 

“Move slowly,” Kuroo whispered, but even that left him scrunching his eyes in pain and gagging slightly, a full-body pulse of excruciating pain working through him. Fingers brushed across his forehead. 

“How long?” someone whispered, too soft to make out who. 

“Few minutes. He heals fast.” 

Tooru’s eyes cracked open again. He found Kuroo and Konoha hovering over him, Konoha’s face covered in smears of drying blood, already swelling and bruising. Kuroo’s brow furrowed. He sank down beside Tooru, poked him in the forehead despite his whimper of protest. “No fighting him.” 

“Fuck you,” he sneered, but that was all he managed before he crashed back into unconsciousness. 

He drifted in and out. 

Lights overhead shifted. 

Things slowly began to clear. 

Slowly, oh so painfully slowly, the agony in his head faded, left him with a strange hollowness, aching as he blinked. The mausoleum was dark, sunset lights creeping through the windows. Tooru groaned, raised his head and blinked. The chairs in front of him were sparsely filled, Fukunaga slumped against Aone, pale and sweating, tremors working through his body, a secure arm wrapped around his waist. Kuroo a few meters away, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, fingers laced in front of his mouth, looking faintly nauseous. Konoha sat beside him, face still smudged with blood, but mostly clean, though dappled with hideous bruises. 

Tooru blinked slowly, then curled his hands beneath him, shoved himself upright. The world spun, and he watched as eyes shifted, as bodies moved, tracking him as he rose and pressed a hand to his forehead. Kuroo, Konoha, and Aone stared at him, silent, and Tooru managed a faint scowl. “What, cat got your tongues?” The words came out as a croak, feeble and nearly lost in the hush, but the austere halls carried his voice to them. 

Kuroo huffed out a laugh and shook his head. “No. Just not sure if you’re stable.” 

“Have I ever been?” None of them bothered to respond. “What the fuck happened? What’s wrong with Fukunaga?” 

Kuroo glanced over, face twisting in a grimace as he looked back to Tooru. A wry smile flickered to life. “That’s part of his power. His secondary. He can let out a scream, target it at one person, and incapacitate them. But that’s the price it comes with. He feels it, feels every single  _ second _ of it, and it leaves him like that.” 

Tooru’s throat worked around an uncomfortable lump in his throat as he eyed Fukunaga, still breathing raggedly, clutching weakly at Aone’s shirt as he sluggishly shifted closer.  _ I did that. I made him do that.  _ Tooru pressed a hand to his mouth. 

Kuroo laughed, bitter and sharp. “Yeah, you did. He was so scared, you know? Scared you’d  _ kill _ Konoha - and yeah, trust me, I  _ get it.  _ If that had been Kenma being beaten, threatened, and someone had just sat there and watched…” Kuroo shook his head, raked his fingers through his messy hair. “But the pain… He blacked out. It was too much. It always is.  _ That’s _ why he’s not a hero. He can’t be, and he never will be.” 

Tooru swallowed hard, glanced away. Guilt dragged at him, heavy in his gut, and left him feeling numb as he stared blankly at the marble in front of him.  _ I wasted time because of this. Time we could have used to plan. I hurt Konoha. I hurt Fukunaga.  _ He pressed his hands to his face, sucked down a slow breath or twenty before he peeked through his fingers, stared at the four. “Konoha… I’m sorry.” 

The hero glanced up, smiling weakly as he shook his head. “I deserved it. I should’ve done something, but…” He shrugged, brushed his fingers across his discolored face.”I didn’t know what to do. How to save him. I was just… frozen.” 

“Like with Bokuto.” It wasn’t a question, but it drew Tooru and Konoha’s eyes to Kuroo, who smiled wryly as he leaned forward, rubbed his hands together. “I know how it feels. With Kenma… I was literally three floors above him, up in my apartment. I heard it come out. Heard his mom say  _ ‘Are you one of those freaks?’  _ and felt his terror. He tried to lie, tried so hard. I was in the hall when she hit him. When his dad threw him to the ground. On the steps when his powers came out, when he tried to turn into a cat to get away. His dad kicked him. Broke ribs. I could  _ feel  _ it. I was so close, so fucking close - his screams were deafening. 

“I was on the same floor as him, but I couldn’t fucking  _ move _ because there was so much pain, so much horror. I could hear him calling my name, begging for me, fighting to get away. But he was trapped. And they killed him while I had a panic attack in the stairwell.” 

Aone’s head turned, soft eyes settling onto Kuroo as he nodded. “I saw Moniwa die.” 

Kuroo smiled weakly, jerked a thumb to the white-haired hero. “See? It’s not the first time. Seeing one of our own die… being unable to do anything… it’s awful.” 

“I know,” Tooru whispered, “I just… I’m sorry. Knowing it’s Keiji...” He’d already been hurt so much, from things in the past that Tooru was certain he’d never know, and from things that they’d gone through together. From that final battle. All the damage it had brought onto him.  _ I just don’t want him to hurt anymore.  _

“Apology accepted,” Konoha murmured thickly. His head rose, found Tooru’s gaze. “Anyways… when he was through tormenting Akaashi he left. Waved at the night shift guys, who fucking  _ laughed.  _ And he left Akaashi on the floor, crying. A healer came in about an hour later. Took care of him. Left him there. They’re  _ torturing  _ him, and-” 

“And we need to get him out,” Tooru whispered. Everyone nodded. 

Kuroo leaned forward, fingers lacing together as he pressed them to his mouth. “It’s gonna be tricky,” he said softly. “That guy you saw? He’s not Fukurodani - which means he’s somehow infiltrated them and gotten control.” 

“How do  _ you _ know that?” Konoha snapped. 

Kuroo glanced at him, smiling faintly as he cocked his head to the side. “Do you recognize him? You should know every Fukurodani hero.” Konoha’s face could only freeze over as Kuroo turned back to Tooru, satisfied with that answer. “He’s a rogue as far as I know - I’ve seen him around for a few years. Was with Nohebi at first, but fuck knows what happens there. He goes by Venom - hence the snake. I don’t know which it is, but he has fire powers. A strong guy. Could’ve been a top-ranked hero if he hadn’t had some shit happen.” 

“What shit?” Konoha said. 

Kuroo shrugged. “It was pretty hush-hush. I caught some wind at Nekoma, heard that it was because someone died - but there are too many rumors around him. No one even knows his real identity.” 

Tooru’s lips pursed and he nodded slowly. “So you think he’s taken control over Fukurodani? Or at least worked his way in so he can get some sort of control?” Kuroo nodded. 

Tooru sighed, slumped forward and let his head hang between his knees. It took a moment to realize that red droplets were hitting the ground, and he pressed his fingers to his nose. Found blood when he pulled them away. He swiped at his nose, found blood coating his hand, and shook his head. “Christ, Fuku-chan sure did a number on me.” 

Kuroo raised one eyebrow, even as he grinned. “Yeah. Had it happen to me once and  _ fuck,  _ it’s the worst thing ever. But now you know better.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“When and where, baby?” 

Tooru glared at him, all too willing to rip that smug grin off his face, but he sighed and sank back after a minute, glanced at Konoha. “You know Fukurodani the best - have they been revamping their security lately?” 

Konoha bit his lip and nodded. “You remember that the security on the doors to the medical bay where they keep Akaashi was upgraded a while ago. There’s more guards in that section - most of them have basic abilities. DNA-sequenced guns in the walls. Did I mention more guards? Because there are a fuck-ton more, and they’re all toting around these fancy new guns - I haven’t seen them before, can’t figure out what they are, but they look nasty.” 

“Fucking great,” Tooru huffed. 

Kuroo glanced to Aone, and they nodded to one another. Tooru raised an eyebrow, but he waited until they finished  _ whatever _ conversation they were having in their heads, before Kuroo looked back to Fukunaga and Tooru. “If you can get Aone in, he can plant a bug on the electronics. It’ll be timed and everything. It’ll shut down the systems for a while, and take out anything big. Not for long, but long enough.” 

“Is that his secondary?” 

Kuroo merely grinned, Cheshire-like, and Tooru looked to Konoha, who raked his fingers through his hair. “It’ll be difficult, but possible. I can cloak him - that’ll be hard, but I’ll be able to manage. Get him in there for as long as he needs. I’ve got a friend in the security department - I’m sure he’ll help us get there without too much interference. I can get all the codes to bypass security to you too, just in case.” 

Tooru straightened up, hands clenching as a thrill worked through his body. He smiled faintly, glanced at everyone in front of him. Kuroo and Konoha looked back, eager, and even Aone had perked up. 

“We can’t rush into this,” Kuroo said after a moment.

Tooru rolled his eyes. “I know that.” But that didn’t mean that he  _ wanted _ to wait - if it was his choice, he’d have already been breaking down Fukurodani’s doors. As it was, he knew he needed to wait. The more prepared they were, the more likely things were to be okay, to go smoothly. 

“I’ll go in alone.” 

“Oikawa-” 

“No,” he said firmly as he glared at Kuroo and Aone, “I’m going in alone when the time comes. Konoha, I’ll need you to be in there, but you’re not helping me beyond ensuring I can get into his room.” 

Konoha’s lips were pressed in a thin, white line, but he didn’t fight it. He simply nodded while Kuroo’s eyes narrowed. “Why the fuck is that, huh?” 

“Because they know I’m involved. I don’t have anyone I need to protect that can’t protect themselves.” His parents were long gone, his sister had powers of her own she could use to protect her family, and Hajime could do the same. But Kuroo, Aone, even Fukunaga - he didn’t know if they had that fortune, and he didn’t want to open the possibilities for it, regardless. They were only involved by chance. They didn’t need to potentially be killed going to rescue someone they didn’t know. “He’s my responsibility,” Tooru said softly. “The fewer people that get hurt doing this, the better.” 

Kuroo bared his teeth at Tooru, but he sank back into his chair and jerked his head. “Fine, but you’d better have a place to hide Akaashi away when you bust him out.” 

Tooru grinned. “Don’t worry. I do.”

* * *

 

From there, things were difficult. 

When he looked, it wasn’t hard to see that his phones had been tapped and that his room was filled with bugs. Even the car that took him to Fukurodani. He was almost surprised at the  _ lack _ of bugs sewn into his clothing, but that was time consuming, and they had no need to track his physical whereabouts. Just what he might say or do within the confines of his own home. It was easy enough for Hanamaki to create some fake feeds, stitching together various sounds and looping videos, then, through the help of Aone, slipping the viruses into the bugs themselves, simply by standing there. 

With that, it was a little easier to breathe in his own home - just a little though. Eventually they would catch on, but it gave him the time and space he needed to begin preparing. First, by making a call to his boss. Tooru wasn’t surprised he got his ass chewed out, but it was worth it when the head of Seijoh finally caved, said she would work some things out. 

After that, it was fine-tuning the plan. 

He and Konoha kept up the act, but with every visit, he focused on more than just Keiji. Memorizing the halls, the best paths out. The routes and changes of the guards. The positions of video cameras and the panels that concealed the DNA-sequenced guns. Konoha handled his own things too, poking into what the new guards and weapons did, the changes that had been happening - how to work around them. Hanamaki was neck-deep in producing a bug that Aone could plant and control enough that it satisfied him. Kuroo was constantly on the prowl, studying the guards outside of Fukurodani. 

And, all the while, Keiji was  _ suffering.  _

Watching it left Tooru cold, seeing how he receded further and further into himself. He’d lunged at Tooru more than once, teeth clicking in ferocious bites, fear all too visible in his too-wide eyes. In the tears that streamed down his cheeks when Tooru coaxed him back down, and in the whimpers of protest that faded into nothing when Tooru managed to wind his arms around Keiji, pull him close, and whisper that everything was going to be okay. 

He didn’t dare whisper about the plans - but he could see the cracks in Keiji widening, leaving him brittle, terrifyingly so. Now that he knew what to look for, it was easy to see in the days that slipped past - faded bruises that dappled the pale skin of his arms; shorts exchanged for pants, but even those couldn’t hide the blood they failed to completely clean up every night, or the shiny new scars that were visible whenever he moved in just the right way. 

It left anger bubbling in his gut, left him spitting rage whenever he left - but he kept a calm façade. Kept himself contained, mind whirling as the pieces fell together. 

Three days after the first meeting, Hanamaki completed the bug. 

Two days after that, Konoha snuck Aone in and planted it. 

Two more days, and Tooru found himself slipping into a black suit, a cold calm having settled over him as he secured it in place, shoved weapons into the holsters and filled the pouches with miniature explosives, acids, and more. He gave everything one last pat, then glanced at the wall in front of him. His hero suit hung there, still damaged from the last battle - the visor cracked, glass having chipped away, scrapes and tears and burn marks all along the helmet and clothes. Remnants of Keiji. 

And, beside it all, was that half-owl mask. 

Tooru picked it up. Turned it over. Smiled faintly as he brought it to his face. It was easy to tie, and it was light, enough that it barely felt like it was there at all. His fingers trailed across the details of the beak that faded into feathers as it closed in on the mouth before fanning out along the jawline. 

_ Keiji… I’m coming for you. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This too way too long ;;; but the next chapter is gonna be crazy, so stay tuned for more~


	5. Chapter 5

Tooru shifted a little, stretching his legs as he watched the guards make their steady laps around the perimeter. There were five more minutes until a guard change. Five more minutes until the opening came. The sky was dark, heavy clouds blotting out all the stars, the moon, drenching the world in darkness only broken by the harsh white lights of the Fukurodani facility. Fitting, all things considered. He shook his head, licked his lips. 

_ Soon.  _

Soon, he would be inside, fighting for his life, stealing Keiji away from that fucking hellhole. He would be safe, tucked away at Aoba Johsai. No more danger. 

_ This is my fault. All of this is my fault. I have to fix this.  _

He drew in a slow breath. Closed his eyes. Pressed his fingers to the comm piece. “Konoha?” he breathed. 

Silence met him for a long moment, then a soft crackle of static.  _ “Yeah?”  _ Konoha whispered back.

“You in place?” 

_ “Yeah, just waiting on the time. Are you ready?”  _

“I’ve been ready.” 

Konoha snorted in his ear, cut the link before he could say anything else, and Tooru let his hand fall, stared forward at the facility. 

Two minutes left. 

He rose. Checked himself one last time, weapons in place, mask secure on his face, then crept to the edge of the treeline as the guard turned, started to walk back to the guard house, moving with no haste, gun hanging low in front of them. 

One minute. 

The guard slowed, reached the house, stepped inside, the door shut firmly behind them. Tooru’s heart fluttered, anticipation hot in his veins. He bit his tongue. 

Thirty seconds. 

He drew in a long, slow breath, eyes fluttering, and then narrowed his gaze on the doorway. 

Five seconds. 

Tooru leaned forward. Pressed his fingers to his chest, to where the rings lay beneath his suit. His fingers curled, tight on the indents.  _ I’m coming, Keiji. _

Time.

The lights flickered. Plunged into darkness. There were cries of surprise, an alarm, a jumble of voices, but Tooru was already in motion, sprinting across the dark stretch of grass that led up to the imposing fence, shadows bubbling around him, eager for action. Two meters out, he curled them close, slowed his pace, and quickly formed the shadows into stairs that arched over the fence - not electrified, but still topped with wicked barbed wire. The shadows no longer sucked at his feet, instead solid and sturdy, and he couldn’t help but grin. 

_ About time.  _

He leapt off the shadowy stairs and hit the ground in a roll, popped upright a moment later and broke into a sprint once more. Guards spilled out onto the grounds, barely visible in the flickering backup lights in the entrances and their black tactical gear. 

Tooru’s hands rose, snapped out, and shadows, slicker and darker than the black all around, shot out. There were shouts of surprise, screams, but Tooru paid them no mind, just darted towards one of the entrances. The guards were on the ground, blindly pawing at the masses of shadows that covered their faces, blinding, choking to unconsciousness. He didn’t give them another thought as he ducked inside the entrance and darted down the hall, globs of shadows snapping back to him every few steps. 

The lights overhead flickered, straining to overcome the virus eating away at the systems, and Tooru took that, bent the light around him. The guards who rushed past didn’t give him a second glance, storming past him, their feet heavy on the ground, though none brushed against him. He simply pressed himself to the wall and let them stream outside before he darted on, mind spinning. 

He’d never come through the main entrance, let alone a side one - always through the garage, always with the tinted windows. But the layout Konoha had given him was seared into his mind, and he chanted the directions to himself as he sprinted through the halls, eyes snapping across door numbers, across the names of the wings, across landmarks. Everything blurred past him, a mess of white broken up with chunks of black, carefully catalogued away, compared to the internal map. 

_ Close. I’m close.  _

He burst into a stairwell, completely dark, and brought light flickering to his fingers as he leapt down them, missing too many steps to be safe, but he didn’t snap an ankle, landed safely on one landing, then the next. 

Two floors down, he closed his hand, smothered the lights flickering on his fingers, and slid out of the stairwell. 

The atrium greeted him, none of the lights working anymore, plunging the area into darkness only broken by the glowsticks the crowd of scientists milling about in the center clutched and the skylight above, silvery moonlight pouring in. The sticks cast a sickly green glow over the crowd, revealed dozens of guards circled around them, guns ready to fire on any intruders. Or perhaps on the scientists and workers themselves. 

Tooru hissed to himself and pressed back against the stairwell, glanced from side to side. No easy way to get across the atrium, naturally, not with their night vision goggles, but it was the straightest shot he had to get on the right hallway. Especially with the kinds of safeguards that everything beyond had. 

Tooru closed his eyes Sucked down a breath and rolled his shoulders. Let his hands go slack by his sides with one breath, two. His eyes cracked open, narrowed. He brought his hands up, and the sickly green light burst to life, filling the atrium with its otherworldly glow. 

Screams and shouts of surprise filled the air, and the click of safeties releasing broke through that, guns snapping around. Tooru brought one hand down, lashed it to the side, and darkness swam up, a bubbling, roiling mass that gathered beneath the people, freezing their feet, their legs, rising up, up, up to lock them in place as their hands thrashed at it, desperately clawing, trying to get it off. 

The guards shouted, but he caught them in an instant, snared their legs and sent them toppling over. The shadows stole the guns from the guards, splintered them beneath their oppressive weight, and engulfed the guards within seconds, cocooning them and covering all the scientists in a bubble - it would keep them alive and blind, long enough for him to move. 

There was a tug in his gut, vicious and insistent, the strain dragging at him, but Tooru kept his hands half-curled, kept the shadows and light in place as he forced his feet to move, swallowing down the tickles of pain as he broke into a jog, tracing the familiar route back to the hallway. 

He spliced some of the light away, sent it snapping through the air towards him, and he pressed it to the door, watching as it rippled, changed, the green tint melting off as it warmed, grew white-hot. He took a step back, heat rippling through the air as the metal started to melt, slow drips that crept down to the floor at first, and then a great rush as it bubbled, popped, ran in rivulets to form a river underfoot. The process was painstaking, lasted too long, even though it couldn’t have been more than three minutes to form a hole big enough for him to fit through, but every second was nerve-wracking with the distant blare of sirens, of shouts. He clenched his hand on the light, smothered it into nothing, and he dove through, biting his teeth at the blistering heat. 

He released his grip on the shadows and light behind him when he hit the ground and shot up, and the cries of relief chased after him as he sucked down a breath, the acrid scent of burnt metal and singed hair heavy in the air. 

_ Well, I needed a haircut anyways.  _

He snorted, brushed his fingers along the mask. 

_ Keiji.  _

The route was infinitely more familiar, something he’d only walked every day for over half a year. It was almost haunting, the silence and darkness that chased after him, closed around on all sides, suffocating, familiar, almost comforting in a way too. He smiled to himself. Took off in a run, feet deafeningly loud in the silence as he worked his way through the maze of halls to the blast doors. 

The first one was easy enough to melt through and clamber past - and that left him against the big door. The one that hadn’t been able to close fully because Konoha had carefully tampered with it, just enough so that a sliver wide enough for Tooru’s fingers to slip through remained. Ample enough for his shadows to spill through, bloating and straining as they shoved the doors apart, mangled the pathetic hunks of metal into nothing but a ruin, the screeching practically music to Tooru’s ears as he glared ahead, watched it all crumble apart before him. 

He didn’t bother to wait to melt the next door, simply gathered a ball of fiery light and threw it at the next door, watched, satisfied, as it sizzled and hissed beneath the light that pulsed on it for five seconds, ten, before it all gave way to the searing heat. Shadows swelled up, eager, roiling around him, and he let them, the energy too much in his veins as he slipped down the corridor. 

There was no need to check the numbers above the doors, to count his steps - he’d memorized it so long before, had ingrained it into his memory, every step, every twist, every move. But this time, it was different. Keiji needed him.  _ Really _ needed him this time. It wasn’t just a lie, wasn’t some stupid ploy to get him there, to get him onto some bullshit scheme. Keiji needed to be rescued, needed someone to get him out of the shithole.  _ I’m coming Keiji. I’m so close. I’m so, so close to you.  _

He sucked down a breath, glanced behind him to make sure no one was following, and let his steps slow. Let himself feel the way his heart pounded against his rib cage, the way his breaths came a little too quickly, a little too sharply. The nerves had risen, oddly paired with some weird sort of calm that left him standing in front of the final door, hands tight at his sides. 

_ They’ll regret the day they decided to do this to you.  _

He threw a wave of shadows at the door, and it crumbled beneath their force with a monstrous shriek and groan, the metal ripping out of its place and hitting the floor with a bang. There were cries, two of them, and the shadows split apart, let Tooru stride through, the door wobbling underfoot as he raised one hand. Shadows shot out, curled tight around one man’s hand and knocked the gun from his grip, snapped his arm in one smooth motion, piercing screams filling the air. 

Tooru grinned, wild, and turned his hand to the other, who had his back pressed to the control panel, hands trembling. 

“Please-” 

Tooru swiped his hand, and the shadows swarmed over man, shoved him to the ground and curled tight around his throat, choking him, the other one. Their hands scrabbled at the coils of shadows, eyes bugged out in the red glow, but Tooru didn’t let up, not until their hands went still. Nearly didn’t release after that, but he shoved them to the side, kicked the second one for good measure, and glanced up at the room. 

It was painted in a crimson light, emergency, barely enough to do anything but make more shadows for the room. He snarled, turned to the door, and flicked his fingers. The shadows attacked it, ravenous, and they tore the door off its hinges with another shriek. Then the one beyond it, crumpling the metal like it was nothing.  _ It is. Nothing will stop me.  _ Nothing  _ will keep me from rescuing Keiji.  _

Tooru stilled on the inside. The dark lights overhead threw thick shadows everywhere, and Tooru strode further in, spun around, eyes raking across every part of it, searching, desperate. 

_ Keiji. Where is Keiji?  _

Not on the bed, not under the table, not tucked away in a corner. Nowhere to be seen. Only covers that were a mess, scorched and singed, black smudged all across them. Heart tripping, Tooru spun, fire in his veins, fear head, putrid on his tongue, and- a quiet sound drew his eyes to the bathroom. Tooru darted over, tore the door open, glanced down. 

Keiji sat on the floor, knees drawn into his chest, hands over his ears, eyes shut tight, the harsh red light spilling over him, leaving him looking hellish. His lips moved, mumbling to himself as he rocked back and forth, tremors working through his body. 

Tooru sucked down a breath, then another, and sank down. Another breath, and he slowly reached out, fingers ghosting across Keiji’s shoulder. A strong shock made him jerk back, nerves tingling, and Keiji moaned quietly, but Tooru didn’t stop. 

He leaned forward, pressed his fingers back to Keiji once more, the shock softer this time, only a soft buzz in his limbs. “Keichan,” he whispered, slow, cautious, “It’s Tooru. I’m getting you out of here right now. We’re leaving, okay? I’m going to make sure you’re safe.” 

Keiji’s eyes cracked open, went wide as he stared at Tooru, dark, throwing red off his irises as he licked his lips, blinked at Tooru. “Owl…” he mumbled, hands fluttering across his face, leaving streaks of something that glistened in the light, black and slick on his pale skin. 

Tooru caught one of his hands, turned it over, bit back a quiet sound at the bloody crescents that marred Keiji’s palm, deep and vicious. There were more than a few, and blood had smeared all across his palms, the scent sharp in the air. He let Keiji snatch his hand back and tightened his own, then tugged the mask down, away from his face.  _ He might not even remember this is his. Might not even know me, even if I do this.  _

Keiji’s eyes widened, raked across Tooru’s face. There was recognition, abrupt and beautiful as Tooru smiled softly, held his hand out. “See Keiji, you know me, don’t you? I’m Oikawa Tooru. A... good friend of yours. You know me. You trust me. And I’m here to help you. Can you stand?” 

Keiji licked his lips and nodded hesitantly, let his hand drift forward and slip into Tooru’s. No shock this time, just the slide of cool skin against his. He squeezed tight, and Tooru eased Keiji up onto his shaking legs and bare feet. He pulled Keiji in, braced Keiji against his side, and started to move. Keiji’s feet dragged along the ground, uncooperative, but his grip on Tooru’s suit was steely, strong, and he let Tooru move them through the room as the lights flickered, familiar white melding with the red as a distant wail pierced the air. 

The sirens. 

Tooru bit his lip, moved quicker, practically hauling Keiji out of the containment room and into the observation room. Konoha was waiting on him, the eerie red lights wrapped around him, throwing his face into darkness. Tooru straightened up, released a breath. “Took you long enough.” 

“I was held up,” he said simply as he raised the bundle in his arms, held it out to Tooru. 

Keiji’s hands shifted to his arm, and Tooru snatched it up, careful to not drop the shoes on top, and glanced back to Keiji. He’d already started to tremble violently, his body twitching as dull shocks came with every squeeze of his fingers on Tooru’s bicep. The sudden surge of electricity, even if it was just the backup generators, was already getting to be too much.  _ He’s been isolated from it for too long.  _ So long that Tooru wasn’t certain if the blankets, specially made to repel the electricity and cocoon Keiji or the rubber-soled shoes would do much to help him at all. 

But he nudged Keiji’s hands off anyways, left him swaying in place, blinking owlishly at Konoha, his brow furrowed, as Tooru sank to the ground, pulled the shoes close. Keiji stood there, malleable, and let Tooru slide the shoes onto his cool feet, though he mumbled incoherently to himself, fingers twitching. He didn’t react when Tooru wrapped the blanket around his shoulders, fastened the button clasp. 

Finally, Tooru rose, spun to face Konoha, who nodded. “There are others who are suspicious. They’ll probably defect as well.” 

“Good, these bastards need to be ruined.” 

Konoha smiled, thin-lipped, strained. 

_ This was his family. I know it’s hard, but they’re not what they were when he joined.  _

His smile stayed like that, even when a swatch of darkness wrapped around his throat. His hands rose, scrabbling at the shadows on reflex as they choked him, squeezing until his struggles stopped. 

Tooru caught Konoha as he crumpled, face pale but breathing again, and he laid Konoha down before he turned back to Keiji, who cocked his head, blinked. 

“Akinori?” he said softly. 

“He’ll be fine,” Tooru murmured, and he wrapped an arm around Keiji, pulled him in close, felt the tremors in his body slowly ease. He nudged Keiji out into the hall, now filled with flickering red and white lights, speaking softly to him, smoothing fingers down his spine as they moved. 

His voice barely carried over the sound of the alarm - but the pounding of footsteps did, and Tooru’s heart lurched, stomach twisting as he raised his hand. Guards darted around the corner, and Tooru brought his hand down in a slice. 

Darkness cut through the faltering lights, blew the men back down the hall. Some scrambled back behind the turn they’d come from, and Tooru clenched his hand, fingers curled into claws. A hand of pure shadows, skeletal and tapered into points rose from the floor, rippling, inching towards the guards, and Tooru’s eyes narrowed. 

_ Harm, but don’t kill.  _

He shoved his hand out and the shadowy hand shot forward, ducked around the bend. Keiji flinched into his side as the screams filled the air, gunfire rattling through the halls, deafeningly loud. Tooru tucked him closer and wrapped his other arm around Keiji as he watched the shadows writhe, listened to the screams fade away, choked into silence, or cut off abruptly. A whimper made him turn, and he tangled his fingers into Keiji’s hair, tugged gently. “It’s okay Keiji, it’ll be over soon. We’ll be out soon. I promise.” 

Keiji clutched his shirt, clung tight, and nodded. Tooru bared his teeth, caught somewhere between a grin and a snarl, and guided Keiji down the hall, painfully slow. But his legs weren’t quite cooperating, and Tooru couldn’t lift him onto his back, not without losing his hands, without worrying that Keiji would fall. So they kept moving, even as the sound of the sirens and boots on the floor grew louder. 

More soldiers stormed around the corner, and Tooru sliced his hand through the air, a swath of darkness rushing forward. The men scattered, bullets popping off, and Tooru’s heart lurched - but the bullets hit something in front of them, ricocheted off, and his head snapped down to Keiji. Those gray eyes were fixed ahead, narrowed, nonsensical words bubbling off his lips as he shook his head, fingers twitching by his sides. But his shield was still there, protecting them with iridescent, shimmering waves, and Tooru couldn’t help but smile. 

Right until searing pain ripped through his shoulder, spun him back and sent him tumbling to the ground. 

Teeth gritted, he kicked himself back around, flicked his fingers and flung blinding flashes of light forward to burst in the faces of the soldiers as his hand rose, curled around his arm. It was slick, hot, the stench of blood filling the air, and he bit his tongue at the creep of numbness and agony that filled his nerves. 

_ Fuck. Of course.  _

His fingers twitched, and shadows spilled out, wrapped tight around his arm and covering the wound, an attempt to stem the blood for the time being as he stumbled to his feet. Keiji stared at him, eyes wide, lips moving, pain and confusion flickering across his face, but he was stiff, immobile until Tooru clutched him with one hand, smiling thinly. “It’ll heal quick, promise.” 

He could already feel the skin around it tingling, growing unnaturally hot, even beneath the blood, and he glanced to the soldiers. They were all sprawled on the floor, scorch marks seared into the walls and ground around them, only a few of them actually moving still. Shadows swirled around the tips of his fingers, mixing with the blood that dripped from his hand. 

His lips pressed into a thin line. He curled his good hand around Keiji’s bicep. “C’mon Keiji. We’ve gotta keep moving.” 

Keiji didn’t respond, but when Tooru tugged he began to move, lurching beside Tooru once more. They stumbled past the triple set of doors and spilled beyond that. The bio-cannons were out, limp in their cradles. Some of the white lights were faltering, flickering, but the red were strong, the alarm shrieking in Tooru’s ears. He grimaced, pressed a hand to his forehead, and carried forward. Turned down a hall, the one back to the atrium. There were shouts that echoed off the walls, bouncing towards them, muffled beneath the shrill alarm, beneath the pounding in Tooru’s head. 

He wasn’t quite sure he was breathing, but he could feel Keiji on him, one hand loosely clutching at Tooru’s bodysuit, electrical pulses coming every few seconds, dull reminders that he was still there, still moving, still aware. And Tooru could only give a soft exhale of relief as he poked his head around a corner, looked towards the door he’d burned a hole in just minutes before.

Guards stood outside it, two of them inspecting it, two others peering through the darkness. One of them shouted. Guns snapped up, the other two twisting. 

Tooru spread his fingers, palm to the ceiling, and pulled down. The red light streamed down, pulsing, and he twisted it, slammed it down. The light shattered apart, blinding, and the guards screamed. Bullets ricocheted, deafening in the quiet as they unloaded their clips. 

A sweep of his hand brought shadows in, and he slammed the four guards into the wall, covered them from head to toe in a seething mass of black. Another twist in his stomach made him grimace, but he stretched his hand back, tugged on Keiji.

“Come on. We’re close, Keichan.” 

Keiji’s fingers twisted into his, his body leaning into Tooru’s, and they began to shift forwards once more. The cries of the guards were muffled, shadows swarming down their mouths, but that only made the other calls seem louder, the footsteps seem closer. 

Tooru curled light into him as they painstakingly made their way down the hall, heat spilling into his palm, the light heating, twisting and turning in his palm until a concentrated ball of it sat there, swirling away. He raised it to his lips, blew it forward. It shot off, a comet in the darkness, and slammed into the upper half of the door. The metal shifted colors nearly instantly, heating within seconds before it crumpled, melting and spilling down, the opening spreading. 

He untangled Keiji’s fingers from his clothing, pressed him to the side. “Keiji,” he said softly, watching as those gray eyes skittered across his face. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” 

Keiji blinked. Licked his lips. The nod came after a too-long second, but Tooru managed a smile. Couldn’t resist a peck to Keiji’s forehead, relished the slight spark that came right before he rose. 

Another swath of shadows locked the molten metal in place, kept it from dripping on him as he stepped through. Right into the crowded atrium. There were more people inside, all clustered beneath the largest skylight. Dozens of guards ringed them now, and they stood on every floor. 

And all the weapons were pointed to him. 

He threw his hands into the air, light sweeping up from the ground, coalescing as the rat-tat-tat of gunfire filled the air. The impact of the first few made him grunt, but he kept his hands up, took a step closer. Some of the soldiers moved, guns trained on him, looking for a way around. He let one hand fall, kept the wall of light between himself and the gunfire, fingers clenched as he swept his hand down. 

Shadows poured down from the ceiling, screams coming in their wake as soldiers were slammed against railings, the snap of bones mingling with the gunfire. They poured down like oily waterfalls, spilling onto the ground and bubbling up, rising into twisted masses that swayed, spun, found gunmen on the ground. 

Tooru felt his knees shake, sweat dripping down his forehead, but he clenched his hand into a fist, pulled it into his body. The shadows towering over people toppled over, knocking them to the ground. Gunfire faded in and out, frantic shouts and screams, the cries for help and the orders snapped out. Movement caught Tooru’s eye, and he glanced to one side, the other - three men to the left, four to the right, their guns raised, charging him. He could feel his control on the shield of light slipping, could see gaps starting to appear where the moonbeams had slipped away. 

_ More. I need more.  _

He dropped the shield. 

Guns rose. 

He clapped his hands together, a resounding sound over the cock of guns. The shadows shot off the ground, swirling in a seething, smoky cloud a meter off the ground. He flung his arms wide. The cloud exploded outwards and the soldiers around him turned to the rushing tide of back, threw their hands up as if that could help. The shadows slammed them back against the wall, shoved them and everyone else to the ground in a suffocating of black, a semicircular gap around Tooru. 

He stood there, legs trembling, arms outstretched, gasping as he stared at his surroundings. Lumps lay beneath the black, unmoving. Soldiers on the upper levels were still too, limply pressed against the guardrails. 

Something warm trickled down his forehead. Tooru raised one hand. His fingers came away stained with scarlet, the pain following a moment later, tingling through his forehead. He let out a shaky breath as he turned back to the door, staggered through. 

Keiji still sat there, his hands clasped over his ears, eyes unfocused, lips pressed together in a thin, white line. But, when Tooru brushed his fingers across Keiji’s wrist, he didn’t flinch away. There was a soft shock, but those blank gray eyes flicked over him, and Keiji rose, obedient, hands falling away from his ears to clasp at Tooru’s arm. 

He wasn’t sure he was breathing right. Everything felt too warm. There was sweat running in rivulets down his spine, and his heart was beating too erratically. But he still stepped back through the door, Keiji clinging to his side, and out into the atrium, swathed with darkness. But even that blanket had started to break apart, wisps of shadows fluttering up into the air before blowing apart, scattering themselves in the moonlight. 

People were stirring. Hands were reaching towards guns. Tooru sucked down a deep breath, felt the subtle ache in his gut pulse a little stronger. 

_ I just need a little longer.  _

He tugged Keiji forward, staggered through the ankle-deep shadows. Their cold seeped through his bodysuit, and he bit back a cringe at the slick feeling that teased at his suit, a subtle call. He pushed it aside. Heaved Keiji with one arm over black-drenched bodies that lay on the ground, prone. Right until they reached the center, the fountain no longer bubbling and shooting water into the air. He staggered over the lip of the fountain, turned back to Keiji and held his hands out. “C’mon Keiji, step over it.” In the fountain, they’d be right under the skylight. Two moves, that was all it would take, and then he could launch them into the air, into safety. 

“Keiji,” he called softly. 

Keiji blinked at him. Smiled softly. “Tooru,” he breathed back with a slight nod. 

“That’s right, that’s-” 

Keiji’s eyes snapped past Tooru and he stiffened. 

Tooru whipped around, threw his hands up. Moonlight slammed into place, thickening, twisting, a shield warping the space in front of him as blistering red spilled across it. He could feel the heat through the barrier, could see the fire licking at the edges - could see the man in the snake mask standing just beyond, hand outstretched. 

Tooru whipped around, snatched Keiji’s hand, and stepped onto the edge of the fountain. “Hold me,” he ordered. 

Fingers tangled into his belt, trembling. There a strangled sound in his ear, but he shoved it aside as he threw his hand up, sucked the light, the very life out of the fire, and sent it barreling to the sky. It crashed into the skylight above, the glass shattering in a chaotic second. Tooru released the light above and reeled shadows in, pulled them off the people on the ground, wove them together with flicks of his fingers, and brought it in on them, a second before the glass reached them. It clinked onto the shadows above - and, in some places, slipped through. 

Tooru ground his teeth together, pressed closer to Keiji, and sucked down a breath. His hands trembled above him, fighting for control, but he held the shadows for a moment longer, clenched his fingers, and then flicked them out. The shadows flung themselves out, crashed into the pillars all around, the stench of char rushing in. 

A snarl echoed behind them, but Tooru threw an arm around Keiji and shoved his palm to the floor. Darkness from all around sucked itself beneath his fingers, seething. Burned flesh. Blood. A shout - laughter. Tooru clamped his eyes shut. Shoved the pain in his stomach aside, tightened his grip on the shadows all around him. They swirled up, thin threads whipping around he and Keiji in a sphere, tethered to the puddle of black beneath him. The man in the snake mask swayed closer, fire sparking off his fingertips. 

“Fuck you,” Tooru snarled. Clenched his fist. The shadows beneath him swelled, and they shot up through the air. A blaze of fire was flung after them, but Tooru flicked a bit of shadows out and the fires smashed into it, spread out. Above, the hole in the ceiling grew closer, closer, jagged glass and steel beams crisscrossing the sky above. Pain in his temple, his arm, his gut. But he shoved them higher, higher, the shadowy tower trembling beneath him, ready to give out. 

And, below, a trail of fire, and, with it, a man in a snake mask. 

The beams flew past and the momentum launched he and Keiji into the air, arching high above the dome-topped atrium. White floodlights spilled across the grounds. Soldiers milled around, tiny, dark. Tooru hugged Keiji closer, twisted until their chests were pressed together. The wind was in their hair, tugging at them, leaving them nearly weightless, even as the ascent began to slow, as gravity began to tug on their bodies once more. 

“I love you,” he croaked as his gut gave a vicious twist. 

They hit the ground, grass underfoot, and Tooru staggered for a moment, wheezing. 

Fukurodani was close - too close. And, from the atrium, there was a whiplash of fire. A blur in the darkness. 

“Fuck.” 

He fisted Keiji’s shirt at the nape, hugged him close, jumped again. Further this time. The sounds of the city scraped against his ears, familiar. Another jump landed them atop a building, and Tooru felt his knees give out. He buckled, hit the ground, Keiji sinking down with him. Tooru let his head sink down, settle against Keiji’s collarbone as he gasped. “Christ…” 

He’d exerted himself too much, more than he ever had before. The world was starting to swim. He felt hot, unsteady, the pain cramping his gut keeping him on the ground, quivering. He wanted to let go, to sink into the darkness - but something curled against his chest, made him stir. “Keiji…” he breathed. Keiji twitched against him. Nuzzled closer, rubbing his cool nose into Tooru’s neck. Calm. As though they hadn’t just escaped the hellscape of Fukurodani. As if- 

Tooru jerked back as a wave of heat and light rushed over them, fire crackling just above them. Keiji jerked against him, cried out, and Tooru grabbed him tighter, jumped. He hit the next roof with a thump, flat on his back, and he scrambled onto his feet, heaving Keiji up with him. A figure stood two rooftops away, black with poison-green lights pulsing from their suit, fire flickering in a thin ring. 

Venom. 

Tooru licked his lips. 

A whimper pulled his gaze down. Keiji was slumped against him, trembling, fingers kneading brutally into the flesh of his arm. On his back, the cloth was smoking. The scent of burnt flesh seared Tooru’s nose and he gagged, grabbed the cloak. It popped apart and he heaved it aside, into the air in front of Venom, and, with one hand on Keiji’s wrist, pushed them through another jump. 

He hit the rooftop running, Keiji stumbling behind him. But flames licked the air behind them, almost taunting with how close they grew, how hot they were on the back of his neck. Singed hair, burning clothes, scorched metal. He could taste it all. Could taste the blood in his mouth, the terror that pulsed through him and the electricity that snapped off Keiji, crackling through the air, through Tooru’s veins, leaving him stumbling as he fought to keep his footing. 

The jumps were growing shorter, he knew it. They were getting closer - too close. And Venom was drawing nearer. 

Five rooftops away. 

Keiji stumbled, dropped to his knees. Tooru heaved him back up, biting his tongue at the sobbed protest, at the whimper of pain, too loud in his ears.  _ I’m sorry, so so sorry Keichan.  _ Another jump. 

Four rooftops away. 

A strong shock made him jerk. He nearly lost his footing, glanced down at Keiji, but he didn’t stop hauling him forward across the rooftop. Those gray eyes were delirious, flickering, ominous storm clouds gathering, darkening.  _ Just a little further. Please, just a little more.  _

Three rooftops away. 

The next jump nearly sent them plummeting into an alleyway, teetering on the edge of a building before Keiji pitched forward, dragging Tooru with him, flames searing the air overhead a second later. It sucked the very moisture from the air, left Tooru gasping against the dry heat, the smoke, before the fire passed them by. 

Tooru rolled over, blinked up at the dark sky. Green lights stared down from above. He could almost  _ feel _ a smile pointed at him, predatory as fire curled off Venom’s fingers. 

Venom cocked his head to the side, curious. Didn’t speak. The fires danced on his fingertips as he knelt down. Leaned in. Raised one fire-tipped finger towards Tooru’s forehead. He could smell the ash, heat pulsing across his face as his heart throbbed in his chest. He wasn’t breathing, couldn’t move. Could only stare as Venom shifted his fingers to mimic a gun, index pointed to Tooru. 

“Boom,” Venom whispered. His thumb dropped. 

A cold hand snatched Tooru’s and he felt the world warp around him, stars and sky blurring, green and red and orange filling the chaotic swirl - and then stopping, a new sky above. Tooru heaved himself up, the hand still locked around his wrist. The shocks were stronger, more violent. Electricity leapt off Keiji in bright bolts, slammed into the rooftop beneath them, the AC units nearby, metal poles - everything but Tooru. 

Fire bloomed in the air, further off than before, Venom still visible, but smaller. Safer. Tooru twisted, found Keiji staring towards it, those gray eyes wide, sharper than before. His lips were thinned, even as he rocked. 

Even as he dragged them through another jump. 

Another. 

One landed them only a rooftop over. The next launched them even further away, the fires a mere speck. Again. Down to the ground. Back onto the rooftops. Within a building itself, electricity moving like a storm around them before Keiji launched them back onto a rooftop. 

Fires lit up the night behind them. No screams of anger, but Tooru didn’t need to hear them as he turned, grabbed Keiji by the shoulders, that cold hand still locked around him. 

A powerful shock ripped through him, snatched his breath away, sent his heart stuttering. Tooru slumped forward, wheezing, grip going slack. Keiji’s only tightened. A whisper in his ear, nearly inaudible, the words a mangled mess of his name. “Kei...ji,” he gasped back. 

Another shock, softer this time. Fingers fluttered across his cheeks, confused. Curious. “Okay?” Keiji said softly, a childish lilt to his voice. 

“I-” 

The world twisted around them and Tooru found them free-falling, wind catching on his hair, their clothes, filling his ears. He glanced down a second before they hit, feet-first, and then they spilled onto the ground, legs buckling as another shock tore through Tooru. He felt his heart trip a beat. Could have sworn it tried to stop as he crumpled to the ground, their limbs falling apart, a quiet sound bursting through the night. 

Tooru gasped. 

Colored lights were swimming in his eyes, snapping through the air, blindingly fast, so sharp against the darkness, so  _ real-  _

Electricity. Electric shocks that were leaping through the air. Tooru’s trembling hands scrabbled at the ground. Everything was on fire, not quite tangible. Nerves were fuzzy, unable to move quite right, to get his body under him. 

A whimper, a gasp. 

His head lolled to the side. 

Keiji was sprawled on the ground, body spasming, eyes wide open, lips parted. His chin was glossy with blood and spit, bolts of miniature lightning snapping off his fingers, his limbs. Darkened patches of skin were left in their wake. A shrill cry swam up before it cut off. Keiji arched off the ground, back bowing so hard it nearly looked broken. His body was stiff. Shaking. Agony etched into his face. He slammed back to the ground, breathing raggedly, head shaking, lips moving. 

“Hurts,” he wheezed,  _ “Hurts,  _ Tooru-” 

Keiji’s body heaved up and down once more. A great bolt of electricity struck the wall. The smell of char filled the air, left Tooru’s head spinning. 

_ “Keiji.”  _ The words slipped out of Tooru’s mouth, a weak, nearly inaudible hiss.  _ “Kei-”  _

He shrank in on himself with a cough, the world swimming, shaking. There was so much pain. He couldn’t sort it out, couldn’t pinpoint where it was coming from. Too much pain. Everywhere. But Keiji was  _ right there.  _ So close. So fucking close.  _ Keiji. Have to protect Keiji. Needs me. Keiji.  _ The electricity was too much. He couldn’t channel it, couldn’t take it, not after being shut away for so long. He couldn’t make it, not like this. Not exposed as he was. 

Tooru heaved himself to the side. The gravel bit into his arm, cool. A shot of electricity hit the ground a centimeter away, the hair on his arms raising. He shuddered. Reached out. 

“Kei-” 

Fingers brushed. 

The world dropped out beneath him.

_ Keiji flinched back as a bottle smashed against the wall above his head, glass showering around him.  _

_ “My son’s a freak!” his dad snarled, lips curled up in disgust, fear. He stood in front of Keiji’s mom, protective, though she held a baseball bat in her quivering hands, and he had another bottle ready. Probably would take the bat from her too. He hurled the second bottle, brown glass catching the light.  _

_ Keiji ducked, arms flying up.  _

_ Something in his gut twisted.  _

_ The glass shattered, but nothing hit him, nothing fell onto his shoulders, his head. Keiji cracked an eye open. The air in front of him rippled, almost pearlescent. And, beyond that, the lamps were burning brilliantly, brighter and brighter until- the glass shattered, the surge too much.  _

_ His mother screamed.  _

_ His father jerked back, terror and rage coloring his face. “Out!” his father roared, “Get the fuck out of my house!” _

_ “Hi there!”  _

_ Keiji glanced up, blinked at the boy before him. He looked strange, his black and white hair spiked up, great gray eyebrows arched high, too many buttons on his shirt undone. But there was a great smile, too excited and bright. Beside him, there was another boy, this one shorter, with shaggy brown hair and downcast eyes and arms bandaged from wrist to elbow.  _

_ The first boy thrust his hand out, leaned down so Keiji could reach. “I’m Bokuto Koutarou! You’re new, right? It’s nice to meet you!”  _

_ Keiji blinked up at him. Glanced to the boy beside Bokuto, those eyes flicking away the moment their eyes met. Keiji didn’t shake Bokuto’s hand. Kept his bandaged fingers to himself as he hugged his arms tighter, pulled his legs in closer. “I’m… Akaashi Keiji.”  _

_ “Keiji! That’s such a cool name! I wish I had one as cool as yours!” The boy, Bokuto, waved his arms, grinning even wider as he nudged his friend, undeterred by the lack of response, and he turned back to Keiji, beaming. “Hey, Akaashi, what powers have you got?” _

_ Most of the tables were occupied, taken up by students quietly working on homework, some of them simply slumped over, earbuds in and deep bags beneath their eyes.  _

_ Only one had a seat open. One with a handsome man seated there, books and papers spread out before him, brown hair artfully pushed to the side, a pen clasped between white teeth with pink lips twitching around it as his long fingers danced across the page, tapping out a rhythm.  _

_ Keiji licked his lips. Took a deep breath. It was always the handsome ones. He wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or not. But, regardless, he needed a place to sit, and it was too hot and too far to walk to the library to sit and work until his next class.  _

_ He tugged at his beanie, the pink fabric soft beneath his fingers. Took a step forward.  _

_ “Do you mind if I sit here?”  _

_ The man’s head snapped up, deep brown eyes hooded. They flew open, raking across Keiji. A tiny smile teased his cheeks, the first honest one in a while, but he bit it back as the beautiful man began to nod. _

_ I- _

_ I can’t- _

_ “Kou-Koutarou-”  _

_ Koutarou twitched in his arms, blood frothing at his lips, spilling from the hole in his chest. “Hold on, just- help will be here. They’re coming, they’re-”  _

_ Koutarou’s hand fluttered across his, feeling the way they flexed, pressed, strained to keep the blood from pouring out. It wasn’t working,  _ why wasn’t it working?  _ Keiji bit back a whimper. Shook his head as Koutarou’s hand wavered up higher. Brushed across his cheek, smearing too-hot red across his trembling lips. “I don’t-”  _

_ Koutarou coughed, but those gold eyes were glued to his face.  _

_ They weren’t even focused.  _

_ “Can’t see. Kei…ji, can’t see. Don’t leave… don’t wanna… alone… don’t make me… be alone… I-, Kei-Keji...”  _

_ “You’re not alone,” Keiji whimpered, “You’re not, you’re not, you’re-”  _

_ But Koutarou couldn’t hear him. _

_ “Call me Tooru. Please.”  _

_ Keiji ducked his head, flushed. The thought was so, so-  _ intimate.  _ He knew he could, that he  _ should  _ \- Oikawa was his boyfriend. Had been for months. And now, with the sleeves of their kimonos tied up, charm packets and prizes in one hand, their other hands clasped between them, it was even harder to deny.  _

_ He could taste the sugar of the cotton candy that Oikawa had fed him, then chased after with kisses. Could still feel the touch on his cheeks when Oikawa had wiped a smudge of sauce off the corner of his mouth before he’d pecked Keiji. Could still see the way Oikawa smiled every time there was a tiny shock of electricity between them.  _

_ He didn’t know. He couldn’t know. Oikawa was normal, was  _ human. 

_ And he wasn’t.  _

_ But Oikawa was- he was more than Keiji could put into words. Than he wanted to. But it could come across in one at least.  _

_ He smiled faintly. Leaned forward, their noses brushing, lips skimming together, smelling of sugar and festival food.  _

_ “Kiss me, Tooru.” _

_ The rings were beautiful, glistening under the bright lights. Tooru had loved them, Hajime telling him of all that gushing, those doe eyes and lingering fingers and brilliant smiles. Keiji could understand why. Couldn’t fault him for- _

_ It hurts... _

_ -slid the ring onto Tooru’s finger with a smile. He was beautiful. Beyond beautiful. Tooru was everything Keiji had dreamed of. Someone he had found a home in. Beyond Fukurodani, that hellhole that had swallowed them up and shit them back out. Had torn Koutarou apart.  _

_ But Tooru- _

_ Pain. Flashing lights.  _

_ White.  _

_ Brown eyes. Ashy hair.  _

_ “Aki-”  _

_ “Ssh.”  _

_ Sounds, garbled.  _

_ Words? Words.  _

_ Familiar voice. Familiar face.  _

_ The name whispered through his brain. Unsteady. Hands rose- his hands? He wasn’t sure. Didn’t know.  _

_ Couldn’t- _

_ Tooru… _

_ Tooru, I can’t- _

_ Animals in the air. Tiny cats. Not cats, but also cats? Big cats. Yellow and gold, with brown manes. Made of light. Cats of light. Woven by the person in front of him.  _

_ Keiji knew him.  _

_ Knew those eyes.  _

_ That mouth.  _

_ That voice.  _

_ Knew his name.  _

_ Licked his lips.  _

_ “Tooru?”  _

_ Tooru.  _

_ Oikawa. Tooru.  _

_ A smile. Such a  _ big _ smile.  _

_ “Yes-” _

_ It hurts! _

_ A foot smashed into his side. Keiji moaned, pulled away. Hand fistde his hair, hauled him up. Green. Snake. A hiss in his ears.  _

_ “I’ll break you,” the man hissed, “I’ll-”  _

_ He couldn’t hear the words. Blood in his ears. Fire in the other hand that neared.  _

_ Close. Too close.  _

_ Keiji choked, thrashed. Screamed as the flames licked into his- _

_ Fire. Agony. Bones that splintered. So much pain. Searing acid in his throat, vomit on the floor. Cruel fingers gripping his cheeks. Hissed words. Green. Snake. Fire. I- _

_ I can’t- _

_ Tooru- _

_ Hurts-  _

_ Red. _

_ Green. _

_ Hurts. _

_ Hurts. _

_ HURTS- _

A gasp ripped through Tooru’s chest, painfully tight. Everything was burning, splintering, shattering, he- His stomach was twisting, heaving. 

Tooru threw himself to the side, rocks in his arms, everything dark as he retched. Vomit splattered onto the asphalt beneath him, rancid, sharp. Tears burned down his cheeks as he retched once more. Everything  _ hurt,  _ blood rushing through his skull, images swimming, violent colors,  _ memories. I saw his memories.  _ Saw himself through Keiji’s eyes. That first meeting. Falling in love. Koutarou dying. Chaos. Konoha. 

_ Venom.  _

A sob made Tooru buckle, nearly dropped him face-first into his vomit, and he shoved himself back to the side, crumpled onto the ground. Nerves fried. Could barely move. He shuddered. Pressed his fingers into his scalp. Moaned weakly as he shrank in on himself.  _ Keiji. Keiji, oh God, Keiji-  _ Ruined. Broken. His  _ memories,  _ spilling into Tooru’s mind, snapping in, melting together, vicious and hot and  _ terrible.  _

Tooru’s limbs pulled in tighter. Pressed his hands to his face, blind. Could see the hands coming down to smash his- Keiji’s face. Could  _ feel  _ the terror that had stained Keiji’s tongue, had made him tremble and fall apart.  _ So much agony and fear.  _ His first breath was a wheeze. The next, a cough as he rocked from his curled up place on the ground, shaking his head.  _ Keiji, oh God, Keiji-  _ He’d failed Keiji so utterly, so completely. Had- his head jerked at a soft moan. 

Keiji still lay where he’d been just- seconds? minutes? before. Electricity no longer sparked off him. Blackened fingertips twitched on the ground, but his eyes were closed, lips still. And, for a split second, Tooru thought his chest was too. As still as Koutarou’s had been, blood staining his front. As Keiji had been, smelling of burnt flesh and hair, limp in his arms, too hot and too cold and  _ gone.  _

Tooru scooted over, rolled onto his stomach, and reached out. Brushed his fingers across Keiji’s forearm, hot, but no static shock greeted him. Just the faintest of twitches. 

“Kei… Kei-chan?” 

No response. No movement. Tooru licked his lips. Heaved himself closer, one centimeter at a time, legs weakly pushing him closer, scrabbling at the ground until he was half-splayed across Keiji’s chest. His eyes slipped shut. 

His mind stumbled along, catalogued what he could through the heavy fog in his mind. No powers. Too much exertion. More meant risking bodily harm. No jumps. Too tired. Keiji was down for the count. Not that he had enough control over his powers. 

Tooru’s head fell forward. Found the crook of Keiji’s neck and stayed there. He smelled like disinfectant and burnt flesh and cloth. Smelled nothing like the Keiji he’d known. But then, he wasn’t exactly the Keiji Tooru had always known. Wasn’t like Hajime, who-  _ Hajime.  _

Hajime, who was  _ on duty.  _

Tooru slowly dragged his arm forward, turned his head, tapped his communicator. 

A crackle. A voice, gruff, tired.  _ “What’s wrong?” _

He couldn’t help but smile. Of course Hajime would jump to that first. Then, Tooru hadn’t exactly communicated him on a direct line in months. “Haji…” he croaked, “I need some help.” 

_ “... I’m tracking your coordinates right now. Jesus Christ, Tooru, how the fuck- you’re almost out of Tokyo?”  _

“Long story,” he coughed, “Just… pickup for two.” 

The silence that met that held too long before Hajime grunted.  _ “Gimme five.”  _

Tooru nodded, unseen, and slumped back onto Keiji’s chest. Let his ear fall into place on his chest, one hand on his stomach. Like that, he could feel the subtle rise and fall as Keiji breathed, nowhere near steady, but still  _ there.  _

And his heartbeat-  _ oh God, his heartbeat.  _ The thing Tooru had craved to hear for so long. When was the last time he’d heard it? Actually heard it, and not just dreamed it up as he’d lain on a poor version of Keiji woven from light and memory? When Keiji had given him that ring, after they’d kissed and drowned in each other’s bodies, memorizing, ravishing with love, worshipping until they’d sunk back into bed, and Tooru had pressed his ear to Keiji’s chest, toying with those slender fingers, admiring the way their rings glittered in the near darkness - and, when Keiji had drifted off, in the muted beams of moonlight he’d wrapped around them. Then, his heartbeat had been quick, but it had fallen into a slow, rhythmic beat, strong and familiar. 

Now, he could barely feel it pulsing against the skin and bone between. But it was still there.  _ He’s still here. I’m not losing you again. I’m-  _

His eyes fluttered shut. 

Reopened. 

Someone knelt beside them. For a moment, he stiffened, and then the details began to register. The sleek green of Hajime’s bodysuit. The armor. The roses wreathed around his head. Hajime scowled at him, his mask pulled back from his face. “You finally awake?” 

“Huh?” 

Hajime shook his head. Moved his hand -  _ it’s in my hair?  _

He couldn’t remember Hajime appearing, or touching him. Could remember a hand flying at his - Keiji’s? - face, fire approaching him - Keiji? He wasn’t sure. Everything felt fuzzy, felt- 

“Tooru.” He blinked. Refocused. Hajime leaned closer, hand on Tooru’s cheek. “I’m not gonna ask. Just hold tight to him, okay?” 

Tooru nodded dumbly and threw a limp arm over Keiji. Hajime snorted, but he must have deemed it good enough, because vines began to spill from the plate of armor on his back. They were slender as they slipped beneath Tooru and Keiji, wrapping them close, pulling them into a neat little bundle on the ground before Hajime’s vines pulled them upright, held them there so that he could slump into the embrace, into Keiji. 

He smiled, dazed. “Thanks, Haji.” 

Hajime stared at him. Shook his head. But he still leaned forward, brushed his lips across Tooru’s forehead with a soft, if a bit irate, smile. “Shut up and close your eyes.” 

Tooru obeyed. The world twisted around them, and he let himself sink into the safe embrace of the vines. Of the knowledge that Seijoh was coming. 

That Keiji was going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After months of waiting, it's finally out;;; forgive me for the delay, a lot of things were happening in my life that made it very hard to find the energy to write much at all. But this is here. I might continue this series, but we'll see. Until then, thank you so much for reading, leave a comment, and I'll see ya around

**Author's Note:**

> ʕง•ᴥ•ʔง **Leave comments** and hit me up at [fairylights101writes](http://fairylights101writes.tumblr.com/) on tumblr to keep track of future updates for this series and work.


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